"My dearest, dearest girl." John's voice expressed his earnest sincerity. "I won't pretend to misunderstand your meaning, and I do so long to believe it possible that my head swims. But—"
"I perfectly hate 'buts,'" she interrupted She put her elbows on the table, and flashed a smile at him, through her arched fingers.
"But, dearest, you must consider this seriously I want you to think for a moment. Need I tell you I love you more than life! Only yesterday I scarcely dared hope that you might be willing to wait years for me to—to earn enough with my pen to ask you to share my lot. To-day—the doors of Paradise are opened wide. Ah! my dear, my dear, I am eager to enter, but I fear for you. I should be taking advantage of your helplessness——"
"Listen, John," said Phyllis. "I am not the least bit helpless. There are dozens of houses to which I can go and dozens of friends who would be glad to have me come to them. But at every open door there is also a finger pointing inevitably back to Uncle Peter's house. And there I shall never, never go. So far as your lot is concerned—it is mine. For better or for worse John, dear. But I trust you, and believe in you, and think perhaps there is a high destiny for you. I want to share in that, too, if you will let me, please. And I can't do so fully unless we go, hand in hand, all the way, together. I am not dismayed by the thought of doing without a great many unnecessary things. And the really vital things I hope to have more of than ever—with you. And so, John, if you don't mind, please, we will eat our lunch like sensible young people, and afterward—and afterward—Now, John, I simply cannot say that. You must say that, you know. I haven't left much of it for you to say, but that little I insist upon your saying for yourself."
Ah! Valentine Germain! pretty, dead Valentine Germain! your daughter is wonderfully like you now.
John looked steadily into her trustful eyes; a long, long look.
"Then I ask you to marry me this afternoon my dearest," he said solemnly. "And—oh! Phyllis, I pray God you may never reproach me."
"I never shall, John," she answered. "For I honestly believe I am to be the happiest and the proudest girl in England."
"Wich of you gets the chocolate, and wich the tea?" asked the waitress.
They were married before three; it was amazing how short, how simple, so marvelous an event could be. John spent ten minutes at the telephone. A quarter of an hour was passed in the coldly official precincts of Doctors' Commons. In the Faculty Office, through an open doorway, Phyllis caught glimpses of the formalities incident to securing a license. A clerk filled up a printed form; John made affidavit to the clerk's accuracy of transcription; a stamp was affixed; a document was blotted, examined; the dotting of an i was attended to, and the dot blotted; a bank-note changed hands. The license in his pocket, John rejoined her.