“Good Heavens! Here's another of the neighbors who wants to see how you look. Do say you can't have any visitors now.”
Christine sat alone in the center of her sheet. The bridesmaids had been sternly forbidden to come into her room.
“I haven't had a chance to think for a month,” she said. “And I've got some things I've got to think out.”
But, when Sidney came, she sent for her. Sidney found her sitting on a stiff chair, in her wedding gown, with her veil spread out on a small stand.
“Close the door,” said Christine. And, after Sidney had kissed her:—
“I've a good mind not to do it.”
“You're tired and nervous, that's all.”
“I am, of course. But that isn't what's wrong with me. Throw that veil some place and sit down.”
Christine was undoubtedly rouged, a very delicate touch. Sidney thought brides should be rather pale. But under her eyes were lines that Sidney had never seen there before.
“I'm not going to be foolish, Sidney. I'll go through with it, of course. It would put mamma in her grave if I made a scene now.”