“I allus ’lowed dah’d nothin’ come o’ dat co’tship!” she said to Hal.
“Go ahead and get the ceremonies over,” said Jean. “Don’t allow this interruption to mar the enjoyment of anybody.”
And while her father was leading Mrs. O’Dowd to the marriage altar, with Mr. Burns and Mrs. McAlpin following, and Mary and her chosen one bringing up the rear, she sank, white-faced and benumbed upon her bed, and gave no sign of life except in the nervous fluttering of her half-closed eyelids.
For a long time she lay thus, mercifully bereft of the power to suffer. “There is some unavoidable reason for this delay,” she said over and over to herself. “I’ll understand it all in time.”
The afternoon waned, and darkness fell upon the Ranch of the Whispering Firs.
“Jean!”
“Is that you, daddie dear?”
“Yes, darling.”
“What do you think has delayed Ashton?”