It was he, looking perfectly splendid in a marvelous blue suit that must have cost at least eighteen dollars. He held out his hands, drew her to him and, in the sight of all mankind, he kissed her, and whispered to her endearing little names. She could not reply to them; she could only take his hand, like a little lost child, and follow him through the car, down the steps and into the hotel bus which was to take them up town. And on the way up town neither spoke to the other, for it seemed to each that even their most commonplace remarks to-day must be freighted with something sacred, in which the inquisitive world at large would be bound to manifest a stupendous interest. And inasmuch as it was plainly none of the world's business—
The bus had stopped in front of a tremendous hotel. It was four stories high! All along the front of the first story it was glass and Donna could look right through it and see everything that was going on inside! She paused on the top step of the bus to view the marvels of this town of less than twenty thousand inhabitants, and then a skeezicks of a boy, very gay in brass buttons, and with a darling little round cap on his perky head, came and took forcible possession of her suit-case. He tore it right out of Bob's hand and ran away with it. Donna was on the point of crying out at the theft, when Bob reached up and lifted her bodily to the ground.
“Reuben! Reuben!” he breathed tenderly in her ear, “don't stare so at the great round world. You're so beautiful,” he added, “and I'm so proud of you! Where did you get that marvelous dress?”
She glanced up at him, radiant. He was proud of her! He liked her dress! It was sufficient. Bob McGraw, man of the world, had set the stamp of his approval on his bride, and nothing else mattered any more. She followed him into the hotel, where he checked her suit-case with the skeezicks who had stolen it, and then led her into the dining-room.
“Let's have lunch, Donna” he said, “or at least pretend to. I couldn't eat now. I want to talk. The man who can eat on his wedding day is a vulgarian, and dead to the finer feelings.”
They found a secluded table and ordered something, and when the waitress had taken the order and departed, Bob leaned across the table.
“You're so beautiful!” he repeated. “I love you in that white suit.”
“I hadn't anything but this old thing, dear. I hated to come up looking like a frump—”
“Listen to the girl! Why, you old sweetheart-”
“Do you love me, Bob?”