“When is that going to be, Millicent?”
“Oh, I don't know; of course it will be a long time before we even think of that.”
“I beg your pardon, I am thinking of it now, and I can see no reason whatever why it should be delayed. We know each other well enough, I should think, and there is no probability of our changing our minds on discovering all sorts of faults, that we never dreamt, in each other. I may be away for a fortnight, and I would suggest that you had better make your preparations at once, so that we can be married a fortnight after I come back.”
“You say that there is no fear of our discovering faults in each other. I can assure you that I have just discovered a very serious fault, namely, that you are altogether too masterful, too bent upon having your own way. I know you always were so when you were a boy, but I hoped you had grown out of it; now I see that I was altogether mistaken. Seriously, Mark, your proposal is absurd.”
“Where does the absurdity come in, Millicent?”
“Well, everywhere,” she said gravely.
“Which in the present case means nowhere,” he said. “Do you mean to tell me, Millicent, that in this town there are not a hundred dressmakers, each of whom could turn you out a wedding dress and as many other garments as you can possibly require in the course of a month, or even if that effort were too stupendous, that you could not divide the work among a dozen of them?”
“Well, I don't say that could not be done,” Millicent admitted reluctantly.
“Well, what other objection is there?”
“Well, you see, one does not, like to be bustled in such a matter as this, Mark. One likes to think it all over and to realize it to one's self.”