"But church is at Round Hill, to-morrow, almost under our noses. If we don't attend, what will people say?"
"Hang 'people.' We are 'people' now. We're happy and we're going to stay happy. And after all what can they say? They'll say that Boyd Westover and Margaret Conway are very much in love with each other, and we don't care to contradict that, do we?"
"I do not," she answered.
"Neither do I. So let them say on. They'll wonder when it is to be, and I'm wondering about that myself now. When is it to be, Margaret?"
"I don't know. Of course I must have time to make a trousseau."
"What for?" he asked. "Hang the trousseau, or make it after we're married. What's the difference? You've plenty of clothes, and you're charming in any of them."
"But Boyd, dear,—"
"But Margaret dear," he interrupted, "you see our marriage was to have occurred in the late summer or early fall. It has already been unreasonably delayed. It is nonsense to delay it further. Think a little, and think quick, and name a day."
"If you must have it so, I suppose it must be so. You are the Master now. And besides—"
She did not finish her sentence till he challenged it, saying: