"Speaking of angels," she quoted. "I was telling Herbert about you only a few moments ago." Her manner changed. "Miss Iverson," she said, more formally, "may I present Mr. Dillon?"
The reedy gentleman rose and bowed. She allowed him the barest interval for this ceremony before she continued.
"Herbert, listen to me," she said, emphatically. "If Miss Iverson will stand by us, I'll do it."
The young man's sallow face lit up. He had nice teeth and a pleasant smile. He had, also, the additional charm of a really beautiful speaking-voice. Already I began to understand why Miss Morris liked him.
"By Jove, that's great!" he cried. "Miss Iverson, Heaven has sent you. You've accomplished in ten seconds what I've failed to do in three hours." He turned to Miss Morris. "You explain," he said, "while I pay the bill and get the car ready. I'm not going to give you a chance to change your mind!"
He disappeared, and Miss Morris remarked, casually: "We're going to be married to-night, with you as maid of honor. Herbert gave me all the plans in his letter, and I came down fully determined to carry them out; but I've been hanging back. It's frightfully dismal to trot off and be married all by one's self—"
I stopped her, and hurriedly described what had occurred at the Berkeley. She listened thoughtfully.
"The poor dears," she murmured. "They can't get over the notion that I'm still in leading-strings. They'll feel better after it's all over, whereas if mother knew it was really coming off to-night she'd have a succession of heart attacks between now and morning, and Godfrey would spend the night pursuing us. We're going to Jersey for the ceremony—to a little country minister I've known since I was a child. Herbert will drive the car, and we'll put you into the chauffeur's fur coat."
It took me a long time to convince her that I would not play the important rôle she had assigned to me on the evening's program. At last, however, she seemed impressed by my seriousness, and by the emphasis I laid on the repetition of her brother's words. She rose, resumed her usual languidly insolent air, and led the way from the room. In the main hall, near the door, we found Mr. Dillon struggling into a heavy coat while he gave orders to a stout youth who seemed to be his chauffeur. Miss Morris drew Dillon to one side, and for a few moments the two talked together. Then they came toward me, smiling.
"All right," said the prospective bridegroom, with much cheerfulness. "Since she insists, we'll take Miss Iverson home first."