Yet some day Angela meant to make the pilgrimage,
when she had built her house and given herself a starting-point.
"I've other things to do," she replied coldly. "I shall see only the
Missions I may happen to pass on this tour."
"Well, some folks'd ruther save this trip for a weddin' journey," Sealman
suggested. "I suppose widows have weddin' trips, don't they?" He gazed
thoughtfully at the gray coat and gray-veiled motor hat which Angela wore
to protect her from the dust. She sat in front beside the chauffeur for
the motion of the car was less there, but she decided that, if she were
ever hypnotized into associating with the Model again, she would take the
back seat.
"The Missions for mine," he went on, when his passenger made no reply.
"There's some prefers the Yosemite, but there's no motorin' there. And if
I was a girl I wouldn't feel married without a motor. In the Yosemite
there's; so much honeymoonin', the minute you see a lady with a man you
put 'em down for bride and groom."
Angela had cause to remember this remark later.
"Speakin' of honeymoons, looks as if there'd been some around here," the
codfish continued chattily.
They were running about through the suburbs of Los Angeles, and if
Sealman's passenger had deigned to answer she would have been compelled
to agree.
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