"This has been a wonderful day, Mrs. Davis," he said, as he cast languishing glances at her. Townsend was not at all pleased with the attention Peters was showing her and he turned, asking, unctuously, "See here, have you got a suite?"
Peters stepped back and looked in surprise from one to the other.
"Got what?"
"Got a—?" repeated Townsend, but his question was broken into by Margaret, who exclaimed:
"Oh, Mr. Peters, we would like to see Miss Buckley and Mrs. Jones."
"All right," he said; "I will go up and tell them you are here," and he disappeared up the Nevada stairs.
"But, young man," Townsend was insisting as he put his foot on the first stair, "I want to get a—" he reiterated, but Margaret again placed a restraining hand on his arm. "Wait until he comes down," she simpered.
As the clerk disappeared behind the portières at the top of the stairs, Townsend turned to Margaret, putting his arm about her waist. "What's the matter, dear? Don't you want the clerk to know we are married?" he asked, in injured tones.
"I didn't want you to tell him right before me."
He looked into her eyes. "You are not ashamed of it, are you?"