You are a perceptive person, Mrs.Spence." It was the fourth day of their Business Honeymoon.

Four days ago they had landed from the cheerful little coast steamer whose chattering load of summer campers they had left behind on the route.

For four sun-bright days and dew-sweet nights they had found themselves sole possessors of a bay so lovely that it seemed to have emerged bodily from a green and opal dream.
"'Friendly Bay,' they calls it," a genial deckhand told them, grinning.
"But you folks will be the only friends anywheres about.

There's a sort of farm across the point, though, and maybe you could hit the trail by climbing, if you get too fed up with the scenery." "Oh, we shan't want any company," said the new Mrs.Spence innocently--a remark so disappointing in its unembarrassed frankness that the deck-hand lost interest and decided that they were "just relations" after all.
They had carried their camp with them, and, from where they now sat, they could see its canvas gleaming ivory white against its background of green.

Desire's eyes, as she raised them from her name-building, lingered upon it proudly.