"Of course you were married in New York?"
"In a very nice church just off Fifth Avenue, if that will help you any," she said. "The usual crowd inside the church, and the usual mob outside, all fighting for a glimpse of me in my wedding shroud, and for a chance to see a real Hungarian nobleman. It really was a very magnificent wedding, Mr. Smart." She seemed to be unduly proud of the spectacular sacrifice.
A knitted brow revealed the obfuscated condition of my brain. I was thinking very intently, not to say remotely.
"The whole world talked about it," she went on dreamily. "We had a real prince for the best man, and two of the ushers couldn't speak a word of English. Don't you remember that the police closed the streets in the neighbourhood of the church and wouldn't let people spoil everything by going about their business as they were in the habit of doing? Some of the shops sold window space to sight-seers, just as they do at a coronation."
"I daresay all this should let in light, but it doesn't."
"Don't you read the newspapers?" she cried impatiently. She actually resented my ignorance.
"Religiously," I said, stung to revolt. "But I make it a point never to read the criminal news."
"Criminal news?" she gasped, a spot of red leaping to her cheek. "What do you mean?"
"It is merely my way of saying that I put marriages of that character in the category of crime."
"Oh!" she cried, staring at me with unbelieving eyes.