She wondered if the announcement of their engagement instantly upon their return would appease the world. Of course, there would always be the story. As long as she lived there would be the story. But as Johnny's wife, triumphant, assured, she could afford to ignore it.
At her stillness Johnny had looked about, and something infinitely drooping and forlorn in the vague outlines of her small figure made its softening appeal.
His voice changed. "Don't you worry, little girl," he told her soothingly, "I'll take care of you."
Her heart leaped.
"Ah, yes," she said faintly, "but what can we do? Had it better be at once——?"
"At once——?"
"The marriage," she choked out.
"Marriage?" Even in the dimness she saw that he raised his head, his chin stiffening, his whole outline hardening.
"What are you talking about?" he said very roughly.
"About—about our marriage," she repeated trembling, and then, at something in his hardness and his grimness, "Why, what did you mean——? Must it not be soon?"