He entered the room with the heart of a boy, the presence of an athlete. He was at his prime of robust manhood, and his physical pride was unconscious.
She was proud of him, and met him more than half way in his greeting. Her face was still slender and delicate of color, but in her eyes was a serene brightness, and her lips were tremulous with happiness.
She led him to the little table. "Now you mustn't call this breakfast," she explained. "This is a private cup of coffee to sustain us through the ordeal. We all breakfast immediately after the ceremony."
"I've had one breakfast this morning."
She looked dismayed.
"At least a roll and a cup of coffee," he hastened to explain. "However, I think I could eat all there is here and not be inconvenienced."
They sat down and looked at each other in silence. She spoke first.
"Just think, this is the last time you will ever sit down with Miss Ross."
"You seem to be sad about it."
"I am—and yet I am very happy. I don't suppose you men can understand, but a woman wants to marry the man she loves—and yet she is sad at leaving girlhood behind. Now let me see, you take two lumps, don't you? I must not forget that. It makes the waiter stare when a wife can't remember how many lumps of sugar her husband takes."