"Never heard of her," grunted Peter.
"You will," smiled Hedgerly. He turned to Joan. "I'm sorry," he told her. "I have nothing against you: in fact you appear to be of the finest. You will naturally understand there is nothing personal in any of this. It is merely a matter of historic fact that Peter will marry Marie Baker."
"Mr. Hedgerly," she said, "I dislike you thoroughly. Furthermore, I'm not too certain that history is as solid as you think. Until further notice, then, I hereby accept Peter's sidelong proposal of a moment ago."
"Joan!" cried Peter running forward and folding the girl in his arms.
"Very fetching," observed Hedgerly with the air of a man observing the antics of a couple of goldfish in the proverbial bowl. "Considerable boundless and mutual enthusiasm, but both terribly and unhappily misdirected. In other words a sheer waste of time and energy."
Joan and Peter unclinched and faced Hedgerly. "We like it," they said in chorus.
Hedgerly nodded understandingly. "But Marie Baker wouldn't."
"Let's go out, Peter," pleaded the girl earnestly. "This unwelcome bird makes me feel like a female homewrecker!"
Hedgerly beamed. "Do go," he said. "And enjoy yourselves until I can locate Peter's future wife—my grandmother."