“Save that the Sagamore is but a heathen priest, truly I feel myself already wedded to you, so solemn was our pretty rite� . Dare you kiss me, Euan? You never have. Christians betrothed may kiss each other once, I think.”

“Not such as we — if the rite means anything to us.”

“Why?”

“Not on the White Bridal night — if we regard this rite as sacred.”

“I feel its sacredness. That is why I thought no sin if you should kiss me — on such a night.”

She sat up in her blanket; and I sat up, too.

“Tekasenthos,” she said.

“Chetena, you are laughing!”