“Nonsense, Harry, jump in; I'll report to Lily Langford.”
“Don't tell,” pleaded Harry, “and do keep Breton on all fours. This isn't a circus. You terrify me.”
“We have only time to make the train, hurry up!” cried Kate. “Steady, my boys.”
“Some day, Kate, those 'boys' of yours will be your death or the death of some of your friends,” said Harry, as he sprang in and took his place beside Kate. “That Breton ought to be shot. It really affects my heart to drive with you.”
“You haven't any, Harry, you know that right well, so don't be alarmed.”
“Quite true,” said Harry, sentimentally, “not since that night, don't you remember, Kate, when you—”
“Now, Harry, I only remind you that I always tell my girl friends everything you say. It is this wedding that's got into your blood.”
“I suppose so,” murmured Harry, pensively; “wish it would get into yours. Now seriously, Kate, at your years you ought—”
“Harry,” said Kate, indignantly, “I really don't need you at the station. I can meet your aunt quite well without you. Shall I set you down here, or drive you to the office?”
“Oh, not to the office, I entreat! I entreat! Anything but that! Surely I may be allowed this day! I shall be careful of your sensitive points, but I do hope this wedding of Maimie's will give you serious thoughts.”