"Oh, to-night—everything's different to-night. I wonder—"
She paused. She was leaning back in her chair, with her head against a cushion, looking at him with a slight, half-ironical smile in her eyes and at the corners of her lips.
"I wonder," she continued, "what Meyer Isaacson will think."
"Of our marriage?"
"Yes. Do you suppose it will surprise him?"
"I—no, I hardly think it will."
"You didn't hint it to him, did you?"
"I said nothing about any marriage, but he knew something of my feeling for you."
"All the same, I think he'll be surprised. When shall we get the first post from England telling us the opinion of the dear, kind, generous-hearted world?"
"Ruby, who cares what any one thinks or says?"