“Would your reverend employer object to your harbouring a newly-married couple for one night? Show him your wedding ring, Mrs. Sawyer. We must satisfy his moral scruples.”
Mr. Cass regarded them attentively. Then he said, slowly: “I anticipated such a result, but wasn't it rather sudden?”
“We shall lose the elevator,” cried Mary. “It shuts down at eleven.”
“Shall we go on a tour?” asked Quincy the next morning.
“I can't leave the Harrison case. I must follow a clue this morning.”
“Where shall we live, Mary? In grandfather's house on Beacon Street, or shall I build a new one? I'll make it a palace, if you say so.”
“Well, I sha'n't say so—but let's live anywhere but here.”
“We'll bid Mr. Cass a long farewell—but I admire his tenacity. He's a sort of moral bull-dog. I might use him in my business.”
“Our business, Quincy.”
“That's so—we are partners professionally, and lovers ever.”