Maud laughed.
"Oh, you ridiculous person," she said; "you will be away ten minutes. Would you like to make your will, too?"
"Well, if it's only ten minutes—oh, he's looking. There!" and she waved a tiny morsel of a handkerchief to him.
Maud looked at her with grave attention.
"Now, I cannot understand that," she said.
"No, dear, of course not. You're not married. I should have thought it as ridiculous as you before. By the way, Maud—oh, that's why you look careworn. Is it true you are going to marry Anthony Maxwell? Darling, how nice, and simply rolling!"
"You think that is important?" asked Maud.
"Why, of course. It's the only crumpled rose-leaf Arthur and I have. It makes us quite miserable; there's always that little ghost in the corner. Can we afford this? Can we spare the money for that? But you haven't answered me. Is it true?"
"I haven't the slightest idea," said Maud.