Oh, oh, oh, gentlemen, fancy! I and Cupids!
"The bed," she continued mercilessly, "can't be made to order any more."
"What," I said, "not in six weeks?"
"Why, George! The drawings, the plans alone require a month."
I glanced sadly at my dear old bed--it hadn't needed any plans. Just six boards and four posts knocked together in one morning.
"The best thing would be," she went on, "if we wrote to Lothar and asked him to pick out the best piece he can find in the Berlin shops."
"Do whatever you want, but let me alone," I said angrily. As she was leaving the room looking hurt, I called after her: "Be sure to impress upon the decorator to make the Cupids look like me."
That, gentlemen, will give you an idea of my bridal mood.
And the nearer the wedding day came, the uncannier I felt.
Not that I was afraid--or, rather, I was frightfully afraid--but apart from that, I felt as if I were to blame, as if some wrong were being done, as if--how shall I say?