stopping to look at all the nicest things, this will at least be a cheap
automobile tour for us both."

I laughed, but he didn't; and I was sorry, for I thought I deserved a
smile. And he has a nice one, with even white teeth in it, and a wistful
sort of look in his eyes at the same time: a really interesting smile.

I wondered what he was thinking about that made him look so grave; but I
conceitedly felt that it was something concerning me--or the situation
of us both.




CHAPTER VIII


The tidal wave of pines followed us as, having had one glance at the
Porte Dorée, we left Fréjus, old and new, behind. It followed us out of
gay little St. Raphael, lying in its alluvial plain of flowers, and on
along the coast past which the ships of Augustus Cæsar used to sail.

Not in my most starry dreams could I have fancied a road as beautiful as
that which opened to us soon, winding above the dancing water.

Graceful dryad pines knelt by the wayside, stretching out their arms to
the sea, where charming little bays shone behind enlacing branches, blue
as the eyes of a wood-nymph gleaming shyly through the brown tangle of
her hair. Pine balsam mingled with the bitter-sweet perfume of almond
blossom, and caught a pungent tang of salt from the wind.