he had
unaccountably conceived a determination to continue living for a time,
he meant to seek out more pleasant accommodations for the night.

The rain had ceased, leaving a ragged sky of clouds and stars in
patches. The air was warm and heavy with wetness. Sidewalks glistened
like black watered silk; street lights mirrored themselves in fugitive
puddles in the roadways; limbs of trees overhanging the sidewalks
shivered now and again in a half-hearted breeze, pelting the wayfarers
with miniature showers of lukewarm, scented drops.

Turning away from the centre of the town, they traversed slowly long
streets of residences set well back behind decent lawns. Warm lamplight
mocked them from a hundred homely windows. They passed few people--a
pair of lovers; three bareheaded giggling girls in short, light frocks
strolling with their arms round one another; a scattering of men
hurrying home to belated suppers.

The girl lagged with weariness. Awakening to this fact, Whitaker
slackened his impatient stride and quietly slipped her arm through his.

"Is it much farther?" she asked.

"No--not now," he assured her with a confidence he by no means felt.

He was beginning to realize the tremendous difficulties to be overcome.
It bothered him to scheme a way to bring about the marriage without
attracting an appalling amount of gratuitous publicity, in a community
as staid and sober as this. He who would marry secretly should not
select a half-grown New England city for his enterprise....

However, one rarely finds any really insuperable obstacles in the way of
an especially wrong-headed project.

Whitaker, taking his heart and his fate in his hands, accosted a
venerable gentleman whom they encountered as he was on the point of
turning off the sidewalk to private grounds.

"I beg your pardon," he began.

The man paused and turned upon them a saintly countenance framed in hair
like snow.

"There is something I can do for you?" he inquired with punctilious
courtesy.

"If you will be kind enough to direct me to a minister...."

"I am one."

"I thought so," said Whitaker. "We wish to get married."

The gentleman looked from his face to the girl's, then moved aside from
the gate. "This is my home," he explained. "Will you be good enough to
come in?"

Conducting them to his private study, he subjected them to a kindly
catechism. The girl said little, Whitaker taking upon himself the brunt
of the examination. Absolutel