“Goodness gracious! How perfectly lovely!”
The bridegroom regarded her with a face that was luminous of delight.
“You bet, it's lovely!” he declared with entire conviction. He turned to Mary, his face glowing with satisfaction.
“Mary,” he said, “I have the honeymoon trip all fixed. The Mauretania sails at five in the morning, so we will——”
A cold voice struck suddenly through this rhapsodizing. It was that of the bride.
“Where is your father?” she asked, without any trace of emotion.
The bridegroom stopped short, and a deep blush spread itself over his boyish face. His tone was filled full to overflowing with compunction as he answered.
“Oh, Lord! I had forgotten all about Dad.” He beamed on Mary with a smile half-ashamed, half-happy. “I'm awfully sorry,” he said earnestly. “I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll send Dad a wireless from the ship, then write him from Paris.”
But the confident tone brought no response of agreement from Mary. On the contrary, her voice was, if anything, even colder as she replied to his suggestion. She spoke with an emphasis that brooked no evasion.
“What was your promise? I told you that I wouldn't go with you until you had brought your father to me, and he had wished us happiness.” Dick placed his hands gently on his wife's shoulders and regarded her with a touch of indignation in his gaze.