They were going to New York. They went to New
York every year. desire wondered why.
She wondered, too, about the rancher's wife going home to Scotland
for the first time since her marriage. What did it feel like to be
going home--to a real home with a mother and brothers and sisters?
What did it feel like to be taking two dark-haired, bright-eyed
babies, as like as twins and with only a year between them, for the
fond approval of grand-parents across the seas? . . . The rancher's
wife looked as if she enjoyed it. But women will pretend anything.
Desire's eyes shifted to the inevitable honeymoon couple who were
going to Winnipeg to visit "his" people. The bride was almost
painfully smart, but she was pretty and "he" adored her. Her mouth
was small and red. It fascinated Desire. She could not keep her eyes
off it. It was like--well, it was the kind of mouth men seemed to
admire. She tried honestly to admire it her-self, but the more she
tried the less admirable she found it. She wondered if Benis--
"What do you think of the bride?" she murmured, under cover of a
magazine.
"Where?" said Benis, in an unnecessarily loud voice, laying down his
paper.
"S-ssh! Over there. The girl in green."
"Pretty little thing," said Benis. His tone lacked conviction.
"Lovely eyes, don't you think? Nice hair and such a darling nose.
But her mouth--isn't her mouth rather small?"
"Regular 'prunes and prisms,'" agreed Benis.
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