“Who are they going to send to Europe?”
“You are insufferable! That’s precisely what I’ve been telling you—the One Girl—Mary, of course—Mary Asheton.”
The Honorable Alexander Hamilton spoke soothingly: “You just said the only lady in the world. You didn’t say which only one. Statistics show that in America alone there are perhaps twenty millions.”
“Mary!” breathed Mr. Copewell with fervor.
“‘Mary is a grand old name,’” recitatively acknowledged Mr. Burrow. “Who objects to this match between you and this young person, Mary?”
“Her family—fathers, mothers, uncles, aunts—everybody like that.”
“Then I gather from your somewhat disjointed statement,” Mr. Burrow summarized with concise, court-room clarity, “that the situation is this: It is practically a unanimous verdict that the marriage is undesirable, ill-advised and impossible.”
“On the contrary, both Mary and I know——”
Mr. Burrow raised a deprecating hand and interrupted. “I said practically unanimous. I admit, of course, that you and the young woman hold dissenting opinions. There is always a minority report.”
“I’m not trying to marry the majority. I’m not a Turk.”