“I shall.”
“Even if I were well, I could n’t be ready.”
“Who cares? As to being well, you are going so you may get well. When I order patients to go away for their health, I expect them to go.”
She became serious, and looked at him with eyes of infinite sadness.
“Dear George,” she said, “I can’t marry you just to be a patient. You must n’t go through life encumbered by an invalid wife.”
“I’ve no notion of doing anything of the kind,” he responded brightly. “It would be too poor an advertisement, and that’s the reason I insist on taking you abroad. What day do you choose, Wednesday, Thursday, or Friday? We sail Saturday.”
He would listen to no objections, but got Thursday fixed for the wedding, and pushed forward rapidly his preparations for going abroad. He enlisted the coöperation of a cousin of Alice, an efficient lady accustomed to carry everything before her, and, as Abby warmly approved of his decision, he felt that Alice would be ready. He saw Alice but briefly until Sunday evening, when he found her in a state of much agitation.
“I am really out of my mind,” she said. “What do you think I have done?”
“I don’t care, if you have n’t changed your mind about Thursday.”