"I will marry you, Truxton, when we get to New York," she said, but not very firmly. He saw his advantage.
"But, my dear, I'm tired of travelling."
It was rather enigmatic. "What has that to do with it?" she asked.
"Well, it's this way: if we get married in New York we'll have to consider an extended and wholly obligatory wedding journey. If we get married here, we can save all that bother by bridal-tripping to New York, instead of away from it. And, what's more, we'll escape the rice-throwing and the old shoes and the hand-painted trunk labels. Greater still: we will avoid a long and lonely trip across the ocean on separate steamers. That's something, you know."
"We could go on the same steamer."
"Quite so, my dear. But don't you think it would be nicer if we went as one instead of two?"
"I suppose it would be cheaper."
"They say a fellow saves money by getting married."
"I hate a man who is always trying to save money."
"Well, if you put it that way, I'll promise never to save a cent. I'm a horrible spendthrift."