"My dear Mabel, I'm not certain that I follow your reasoning, but do make your mind easy; I've promised to marry you to-morrow, and I will--on the stroke of noon--to the tick, for my sake as well as for yours. And, though the fates don't seem over propitious at the moment, I dare say we shall be quite as happy as the average married folk--at least, I'll marry you."
"You mean it?"
"I do--unreservedly; please understand that once more, and once for all. You shall have something like a wedding day."
"I wish--I wish it were to-day; I'm afraid--of what may happen--before to-morrow."
"Of whatever you may be afraid, I'm afraid that it couldn't be to-day. It's my uncle's funeral to-day."
"Rodney! You--you're not going!"
"I am; as chief mourner."
"Rodney, you--you can't do a thing like that! You--you mustn't!"
As she spoke an elderly woman came into the room, of a somewhat portly presence--the lady's mother. Seemingly she was in a mood to be garrulous.
"What mustn't he do? Excuse me, Mr. Elmore, for coming in like this, but really, Mabel, I don't know what you are thinking about. I'm sure Mr. Elmore wants to go to his business, and here's all the work at a standstill----"