"Lee, dear," said Renier, "you don't feel that that fellow buncoed you into this, do you? Please say you don't." "Of course, I wasn't buncoed," she said, and with infinite confidence. "Why, I've seen the thing coming for months! Haven't you?" "I've seen a certain girl begin by being very dear and grow dearer and dearer--I wish we could _walk_ back. I'm afraid of motor-boats, fresh water, and sudden storms on mountain lakes. And I hereby highly resolve that after this perilous trip I shall never again do anything dangerous, such as watching people going up in aeroplanes, such as sitting around with wet feet, such as eating green fruit, such as-- Oh, my own darling little kiddie," he whispered with sudden trembling emotion, "but this life is precious." "George and Charley are looking at us," said Lee, "with funny looks. I wonder if they are _on_? I wonder if everybody will be _on_--just by looking at us. _Do_ I look foolish?" "You do not, but I think you are foolish to take a feller like me, and that's why I'm going to dance down this gang-plank and snap my fingers and shock George and Charley out of their senses." During this first part of the _Streak_'s swift rush from Carrytown to The Camp a tranquil silence came over them. Lee, I think, was searching her heart with questions. But she had no doubt of her love for Renier; she doubted only her capacity to be to him exactly the wife he needed. And I know that Renier just sat, brazening the critical glances of George and Charley, and adored her with his eyes. And what were his thoughts? Would you give a penny for them? He leaned closer to her, and in a whisper that thrilled them both to the bone, he quoted from Poe: "And neither the angels in heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee." And a little later he said: "I never knew till to-day what poetry is for. I thought people who wrote it were just a little simple and that people who read and quoted it were perfect jackasses." "And what is poetry for?" asked Lee, smiling. "Poetry," he said, "is for _you_." As they neared the camp the sentiment in their hearts yielded a little to excitement. "When we tell 'em," said Lee, "it's going to be just like a bomb going off. And everybody will be terribly envious." "Nobody even loves us," laughed Renier, and he quoted: "Among ten million, one was she, And surely all men hated me." And like a flash Lee answered: "Among ten million he was one, So all the ladies fought like fun." "One thing is sure," sand Renier, "we've more than executed Brother Arthur's delicate and confidential commission. What we don't know about getting married in the State of New York simply doesn't exist." Arthur, eager and impatient, was like a more famous person, watching and waiting. "Well," he said, "thank you a thousand times. And what did you find out?"