started violently and crushed it into his
pocket. He glanced at Mary; her letter lay neglected on her lap. She
was looking steadily out of the window.

"Well, that's settled," said John. "I--I think I'll have a cigar, dear."

"Yes, do, darling," said Mary, and John went out.

These second letters were unfortunately so long as to make it
impossible to reproduce them. They were also very affecting, Dora's
from its pathos, Charlie's from its passion. But the waves of emotion
beat fruitlessly on the rock-built walls of conscience. At almost the
same moment, Mary, brushing away a tear, and John, blowing his nose,
sat down to write a brief, a final answer. "We are to be married
today fortnight," they said. They closed the envelopes without a
moment's delay and went to drop their letters in the box. The servant
was already waiting to go to the post with them and a second later the
fateful documents were on their way to Cannes.

"Now," said John, with a ghastly smile, "we can have a glorious long
day together!"

Mary was determined to leave herself no loophole.

"We must tell Aunt what--what we have decided upon this morning," she
reminded him. "It means that the wedding must be very quiet."

"I shan't mind that. Shall you?"

"I shall like it of all things." she answered. "Come and find Aunt
Sarah."

Miss Bussey had always--or at least for a great many years
back--maintained the general proposition that young people do not know
their own minds. This morning's news confirmed her opinion.

"Why the other day you both agreed that the middle of June would do
perfectly. Now you want it all done in a scramble."

The pair stood before her, looking very guilty.

"What is the meaning of this--this (she very nearly said 'indecent')
extraordinary haste?"

Miss Bussey asked only one indulgence from her friends. Before she did
a kind thing she liked to be allowed to say one or two sharp ones. Her
niece was aware of this fancy of hers and took refuge in silence.
John, less experienced in his hostess's ways, launched into the
protests appropriate to an impatient lover.

"Well," said Miss Bussey, "I must say you look properly ashamed of
yourself [John certainly did], so I'll see what can be done. What a
fluster we shall live in! Upon my word you might as well have made it
tomorrow. The fuss would have been no worse and a good deal shorter."

The next few days passed, as Miss Bussey had predicted, in a fluster.
Mary was runn