“You do? I suppose you don’t mean what most women would by that, but perhaps you’ll explain just what you do mean. There’s nothing very dramatic in being prosaically married and living in West Twelfth Street.”
“Oh, you can’t plan drama too far ahead. But I’ve always known I was cut out for it. In a not too pleasant way I’ve had a lot of it already. I fancy I draw it like a magnet——”
“And I’m to be the chorus, I suppose!”
“Of course there’s nothing dramatic about you, Eustace dear, or I shouldn’t be marrying you, but——Oh, my goodness! Great heavens!”
“What’s the matter? Do you see drama approaching down the perspective of this damp avenue? I vote we get out of it——”
“There’s something—I never thought of till this minute.”
“Well? What is it?”
“I’m afraid you won’t like it.”
“I probably shan’t.” Bylant was in a thoroughly bad humor.
“Well, I must come out with it. My grandmother wanted me to ask the man I married to take my name. I wouldn’t promise because I never intended to marry—but, well—I find I don’t like the idea of giving up my own name.”