Long after she was asleep he sat staring into the blackness. To-morrow--all the long to-morrows would be theirs. CHAPTER XV--SLAVES OF FREEDOM It was as though he were in a nest; the windows were padded with the feathers of snow that had frozen to them overnight. He felt cramped. Then he found that his arm was about a girl and that her head was against his shoulder. She roused and gazed at him drowsily. She sat up, rubbing her fists into her eyes. They stared at each other in amused surprise. “Well, I never!” she whispered. “Wot liberties ter taik wiv a lady!” She drew away from him in pretended haughtiness, tilting her chin into the air. Some one yawned. “Good Lord! We must have been mad.” Disenchantment spoke in the complaining voice. They turned. The rest of the party were awake, looking bored and fretful. “I’m aching for some sleep,” Fluffy sighed; “I know I’m going to quarrel with some one. It was you and your wretched Cynaras did this for us, Horace. If I’m not in bed in half-an-hour, I’ll never speak to you again.” “Why mother, where’s King?” Desire noticed the absence of Mr. Dak. “If he’s wise, he’s walking back to New York,” Vashti said; “but I think he’s outside, directing the driver.--We certainly were mad. I am tired.” A discontented silence settled down. Teddy wished that they all would close their eyes and leave him alone with Desire. She was like a wild thing when others were watching; beneath her stillness he could detect her agitation lest he should betray to others that he loved her. “You’re not cross, too--are you?” he whispered. “Are you, Princess?” She shook her head. “You made a splendid pillow.” She gave him no encouragement, so he sank into himself. He tried to recapture his sensations of the night In his dreams he must have been conscious of her; they must have gone together on all manner of adventures. He blamed himself for having slept; if he had kept his vigil, what memories he would have had. The car halted. The door was opened by Mr. Dak. White and soft as a swan’s breast, gleaming in the early morning sunlight, lay a rolling expanse of unruffled country. Distant against the glassy sky mountains shone imperturbably, like the humped knees of Rip Van Winkles taking their eternal rest. Mr. Dak beamed with pride. He seemed to be claiming all the credit for the stillness and whiteness, and most especially for the low-roofed farmhouse, with its elms and barns, and its plume of blue smoke curling up hospitably into the frosted silence. He was pathetically eager to be thanked. He looked more like a maiden-aunt than ever. As the company tumbled out, their self-ridicule was heightened by the patent unsuitability of their attire. The men in their silk-hats and evening-dress, the women in their high-heeled shoes and dainty gowns looked dishonest and shallow apart from their environment. “Damn!” said Fluffy, giving way to temperament “I want to hide.”