"Yes, now, before luncheon. Tell Jane you will not return—"
"But my bag—shall I take that? And Delia, what will—"
"Delia must look out for herself; you can explain by letter. Tell Jane to have your bag sent this afternoon to this address." He gave me a card on which he scribbled, "Check room of the Grand Central Station". "We can be married at the magistrate's office—"
I must have shown some disappointment at this decision, for he asked quickly:
"What is it, Marcia? Tell me. Remember, I can bear nothing more."
I took a lighter tone with him. I saw that the nervous strain under which he was suffering must be relieved.
"I am disappointed, yes, downright disappointed. Even if you don't want to make certain promises, I confess I do. I want to say 'I promise'; I want to hear myself saying 'I take you' and 'till death do us part'. I want to say those very words; I would like the whole world to hear. Why, think of it, I am going to be your wife! Do you grasp that fact?" I said, smiling at him.
I won an answering smile.
"Have your own way; I may as well succumb to the inevitable now as at any time, for you will always have it with me."
"Oh, I would n't be so mean as to want it all the time, besides it would be so monotonous; but I do want it this once—the great and only 'once' for me."