hen and her half-grown brood scratched blithely in the middle of the road. Muriel was gazing into his face with slavish admiration.
A car was coming. Their own car. He recognized its peculiar hiccoughing squeaks. Hastily he drained the last drops and pushed the bottle into Muriel's hands.
"You may return the bottle, Muriel," he said. "I must go to meet the brideangroom."
The car was in sight. He espied a clump of Michaelmas daisies growing by the side of the road, and he swiftly ran and plucked a long feathery spray. It was rather dusty, but still very pretty, and he stood clasping it, with an expectant smile on his face, as the car approached. Piers, who was driving, would have gone by and left him standing there, but Eden sharply told him to stop, and Alayne leaned forward full of eager curiosity.
Wakefield mounted the running board and held the Michaelmas daisies out to her.
"Welcome to Jalna," he said.
