et out. But she could not
go like this--not without a word--not without some explanation--even if
she had to brave his rage.

"I can't," she told him. The voice was tired, but not beaten--no. "I
thought I could, because I loved you oh--so--much. But I can't. I know
it now; I've known it all along."

But he didn't seem angry; he seemed only gentle and sorry. And his voice
sounded sorry, and kind.

"I think I knew it, too," he was saying, slowly; "knew it was wrong, all
the while. But I didn't realize how wrong till I saw it was making you
sad. At first it seemed to me that this would be the finer way, quiet
and soon over, no fuss nor any crowd. I have seen weddings that were
ribald and not sacred, and I wanted ours to be none of that. Just you
and I and the minister, with Hamilton and English standing by; and then
just you and I going away together, leaving no wise winking, no meaning
whispers behind. And that _was_ right,--but only half right; I have been
selfish with you. It is a sober step for a girl like you; she wants her
folks at such a time. We will wait now for your people."

She had paused to wait for his answer--his anger--with one foot upon the
running board, one foot on the curb. But slowly, as his voice went
gravely on and on, she turned and faced him and listened, incredulous.
The words were distinct enough; they drummed at her ears, but they did
not penetrate, not even after he had finished, until she stared about her
and saw how far they'd come. They were far south of Grand Central and
Forty-second Street. Then it went reeling through her.

He would have stepped out, but she pushed him back and followed him
inside.

"Where were we going?" she gasped. But she knew--she knew! She wanted
to laugh, and wanted to cry, and didn't know which to do.

"We have to get a license, you know," he told her soberly.

She decided then to cry, not much, just a little. But she made him smile.

"We've lost a lot of time," she sniffed brokenly. "You'd better tell him
to hurry."

The driver had been disappointed; he had expected more of her. But then
you couldn't never tell about them dames with real class. But he was
deferential; he had recognized his fare.

"Where to, Mr. Blair?" he opened the door at that moment to ask. "We
gotta step on 'er, if you still want to make it."

Perry ordered him to step on 'er.

Then the miracle came to pass. She found the worn seat yards too wide,
the me