So Joseph had found his honeymoon arranged for him in every detail. He had accepted it without protest, recognizing that it was sensible and saved him trouble. But he was astounded, on entering the large and commodious cabin which Aaron had booked, to find it transformed out of all resemblance to a ship's cabin. A Turkish carpet covered the floor, and the dingy curved timbers that formed the walls had been whitewashed to shining purity. There were two small armchairs with needlepoint seats, and on the hinged table by the berths stood an enormous bowl of Christmas roses.

Theodosia broke her silence with a little cry. 'How pretty it is! I didn't know a ship's cabin could look like this. Did you have it fixed this way?'

He shook his head sulkily. 'No'. After a moment's silence he added, 'I presume that your father did.'

She walked over to the stove, pulled off her mittens, and held her chilled hands to the blaze.

Of course it was her father. Who else would have taken such pains to insure her comfort? Who else would have thought to send her roses, the only kind that could be procured in midwinter, a trifle shriveled and puny, but roses none the less? Messages of cheer and comfort.

Joseph flung his cape on one of the chairs and stared unhappily at Theo's small unconscious back. His mind was not analytical, but he found himself irritated by Aaron's thoughtfulness. There was something faintly ridiculous about starting married life in a bower of a father-in-law's devising. And deeper than that lay a disquiet that he could not quite drag to light.

Now and then at Richmond Hill, he had mulled over the single-hearted devotion that Theo showed her father. And often, when they were together, he had felt himself excluded while the two of them escaped into an apparently delightful atmosphere which he did not understand and slightly resented.

Still, you couldn't resent so admirable a thing as love between father and daughter; it was most proper and becoming. Always, he had told himself, it would be different once he and Theo were married. Theo would then automatically transfer that eager admiration, that breathless responsiveness, to her new master. Girls always did.

He had vaguely pictured his wedding night, seeing Theo starry-eyed and shy, shedding a few natural tears, perhaps, as she parted from her father. But, after all, they were to see Aaron again so soon. He had pictured himself as drying those tears tenderly, carrying her off in a high manner. Then they would be alone at last, freed from all other influences.