“Indeed?” He dared not detach himself but he averted his eyes. He had never seen her look so beautiful. She wore a very soft, very clinging gown, the shade of the American Beauty rose; one of the fine flowers of her trousseau. It matched the deep flush of excitement in her cheeks and her eyes were bigger and brighter and blacker than ever.
“Do you mind if we go outside?” he asked. “It’s a clear night.”
“I don’t mind, but we’ll have to walk to keep warm, and you always choose the most comfortable chair in the library for your cigar.”
“I rather feel like walking.”
Her long cape was in the entrance-hall and as she disappeared into its dark folds he gave a sigh of relief and put on his Burberry and cap.
“Now, what do you think it is?” she demanded as they strolled down the avenue.
“My faculty for guessing has dried up these last weeks.”
“I found my grandmother’s wedding-gown in the attic and it is such a dream of beauty that I decided then and there to be married in it. And then we all decided to have the wedding the night of the party. Midnight. Nobody to have a hint of it till I sail down that stair. Of course, if you like the idea,” she added, suddenly tactful. “But we all thought the picture would appeal to that fine artistic taste of yours.”
He was silent for a moment, then replied with a shrug: “Good idea. Something to remember. It will be rather theatrical, of course.”
“Call it dramatic. I mean to get all the drama out of life I can.”