"Well, that was Edward's idea. Blother inclines to the opinion that I was drunk."
"Mr. Blother is a very silly old man," said Miriam, "and dear old Edward is so taken up with his own affairs that one need never pay much attention to what he says. But, John—truly now—you are not teasing me about England? You can find your way there and it is as nice as you say it is?"
"Of course I can find my way there. I only wish I could go and find it now, this minute, and take you with me."
She sighed. We were now sitting on the garden-seat. "I almost wish you could," she said. "I should like to get off all the bother of the wedding. I dread that more than anything."
"Why?" I asked, in some surprise. "I thought everything was going to be as simple as possible."
"Well, father says now that he thinks we must have a rich wedding, and ask all our friends amongst the lower classes. I should like them to come, of course, because a lot of them are real friends; but I do hate the idea of a regular rich wedding."
"Why does your father think we ought to have one?" I asked. "He seemed to be pleased that I wasn't a man like Eppstein, and that you were marrying into your own class."
"Yes, but he says there will be such a lot of talk if we only have our poor friends. People are always saying that he isn't really in sympathy with the rich at all. Of course it isn't true, but if we had a rich wedding, and invited all the rich people and gave them presents, it would show that he does think more of them than just of pleasing our poor relations."
"Should we have to give them presents—expensive ones?"
"Yes. They are awfully good. Lots of the women in mother's district have promised to take jewels. They are quite excited about my marriage, and would like to see me settled as poorly provided for as possible. Perhaps it wouldn't be fair to disappoint them. But I do hate it so."