"You will wear your best white silk, I suppose, Leo," said Sue, beforehand.
"No," said Leo, sharply.
"Won't you, dear? But we are all going to dress up a little, and you look so well in white."
"I—never mind, I am not going to wear it."
"What shall you wear?"
"Something—anything."
"But, Leo——"
"What does it matter? Why should you care? You never used to worry about my clothes;" perceiving however that Sue looked hurt, Leo laughed—not quite naturally. "Don't you see, stupid old darling, that white silk—well, it makes a bride, and I am not the bride."
"But you wore it in London."
"One wears in London what one never wears out of it." There was finality in the tone, but Sue persevered; she had not the art of letting well alone.