CHAPTER II. ” “I suppose,” said Constance, stencilling away at bright pink petals, “it’s our lot. I’ve got to have you, and by God I will. Marvel, in a tone intended to be consolatory. After all, what did it matter?—it or anything else in the world? She was within reach of his arms, beautiful, compelling, herself as it seemed suddenly conscious of the light which was burning in his eyes. Wouldn't it be fun to see his name on a book-cover some day? He'll go strutting up and down without ever dreaming he owed the whole shot to us. She felt a semi-sharp object being gently impressed into her back. In spite of the tumultuous joy which agitated him, the bridegroom could not prevent the intrusion of some saddening thoughts, as he reflected upon the melancholy scene which he had so recently witnessed in the same place. That old chap has a remarkable range in reading.
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