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.. when waiting will bring me so much. ... At twelve o'clock?
That's the swell hour," he laughed. "Shall I drag along a bishop or
will an ordinary minister do?"
She tried to smile in response.
"Good night, dear," he said, and raised her hand again to his lips.
"Good night."
"Is that all?"
"All."
"No--trimmings? You might say good night to the groceryman that way."
"Good night-dear," she said, obediently.
"It's true. I'm not dreaming it. Noon TO-MORROW?"
"Noon to-morrow," she repeated.
He walked to the door, stopped, turned, hesitated as if to come back.
Then he smiled at her boyishly, happily, wagged his head gayly, as
though admonishing himself to be about his business and to stop
philandering, and went out. ... He did not see her drag herself to
the sofa wearily; he did not see her sink upon it and bury her face
again in the cushions; he did not hear the sobs that wrenched and
shook her. ... He would then have understood that this was not the
usual way for a girl to enter her engagement.


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