He almost timidly took her hand, kissed it; and it was she who sought his shoulder--gladly, eagerly, with a sudden, real shyness.

"Margaret," he said.

"Mine--aren't you ?" Here was the Joshua she was to know thenceforth, she felt.

This Joshua would enable her to understand, or, rather, to disregard, so far as she personally was concerned, the Josh, tempestuous, abrupt, often absurd, whom the world knew.

But--As soon as they went where the guides were, the familiar Josh returned--boyish, boisterous, rather foolish in trying to be frivolous and light.