“All right, I’m game if you are; you can’t phaze me,” she said.
“Well, how about to-night?”
“The sooner the better.”
Talk about quick action, it was here with a vengeance.
Four people on a ferryboat, then an elevated railroad and the ringing of a minister’s door bell.
It’s all very simple.
The dinner afterward in a cafe, very informal, you know, to harmonize with the ceremony, with a couple of quarts for luck sandwiched in by cocktails and highballs; then a few brief telegrams:
“Married to-night; wish us luck;” you know the rest.
It was all right, after all, apparently, and everybody did wish them luck, even if there were a few bad spots in the job. But, you see, they suited themselves and there was no one else to be taken into consideration, not even the relatives. This going around and holding consultations in advance is no good, and people who are in love or who think they are in love don’t want advice of any kind, except the kind that rings the door bell of a minister’s hut or buys a wedding ring and sends it with the words:
“Get busy before it is too late.”