They stood a little while clinging to each other, entirely untroubled by any part of the world that might be looking on or interesting itself.
Then Wardwell began to count the practical things.
"We'll have to see your priest, I suppose that's the first thing."
"Yes, Fr. Davis. But he will know that I am right," she answered easily. "Maybe he will have to go to the Cardinal's. But he will know that it's for Mamma. He knows her so well, and how good she's always been to everybody. He would do anything for her, I know he will."
At the ferry house Wardwell announced that they would ride across town in a taxicab.
"I'm on my way to be married," he proclaimed to the general world. "I've got to start right."
The strain of the weeks seemed to have lifted from him. And although he knew that there were difficulties ahead, he was in the mood to consider them all met and vanquished. He was, in fact, Wardwell himself again. Augusta saw the mood, knew that his feeling was largely intended to make a hard place easy for her, and she was willing to fall in with it, to a certain extent.
"You musn't spend all of your two dollars, Jimmie. You know you'll have a lot of expenses."
"Who said two dollars? I've got more than two dollars. I've got investments, mining stocks, real wealth. I've got friends—I can borrow, potential wealth. I've got a headful of jokes, and jokes without heads, or tails; all wealth. And, if all these will not suffice, I've got—a dress suit!" he wound up in a hoarse dramatic whisper, looking warily around to see that his admission was not caught by any who might have avaricious designs toward the suit.
"Yes, but you'll need the dress suit."