Rosina threw her arms around her and kissed her.
“Oh, I am so delightfully glad to be so happy, and for you to be so happy at the same time.”
“Yes, I like to be happy myself,” Molly confessed.
“You are happy, aren’t you? You do like being married, don’t you?”
“Pleasantest two days of my life,” declared the bride, with apparent sincerity.
“Do you think your husband is as good-looking as monsieur?”
Molly started violently.
“As good-looking! Why, my dear, didn’t I tell you that he was the—Oh, if I only had my locket!”
“Never mind,” Rosina said soothingly; “you can think he’s handsomest, if you like, I don’t mind. At any rate, he isn’t a great musician.”
“No,” said Molly proudly; “but he’s a colonel, and a colonel ranks a genius anywhere, any day, in Europe.”