Suddenly a string of the violin snapped. We stopped, and I saw Tubal Cain's hand pointing eastward. A golden ripple came dancing down the creek, and, at the head of the combe beyond, the sun's edge was mounting.
"Morning!" said the bridegroom.
"It's all done," said Annie, holding out a hand to me, without looking up. "And thank you, sir."
"We danced through the grey," I answered; and that was all I could find to say, as I stepped towards the ladder.
Half an hour later as I looked out of window before getting into bed I saw in the sunlight a boat moving down the creek towards the town Tubal Cain was rowing, and Annie sat in the stern. She had changed her gown.
They have been just an ordinary couple ever since, and attend their chapel regularly. Sometimes Annie comes over to make me an omelet; and, as a matter of fact, she is now in the kitchen. But not a word has ever been spoken between us about her honeymoon.
