"Cynthia Lessler, my girlhood friend."
"She is an actress, isn't she?"
"Yes. Her home life was very unhappy. But I think she has much talent, too."
"She has."
"I am glad you think so. Anyway, she is my oldest friend, and I have asked her to be my bridesmaid to-morrow."
He continued silent beside her so long that she said timidly:
"Do you mind, Jim?"
"I was only thinking—how it might look in the papers—and there are other girls you already know whose names would mean a lot——"
"Yes, I know. But I don't want to pretend to be what I am not, even in the papers. I suppose I do need all the social corroboration I can have. I know what you mean, dear. But there were reasons. I thought it all over. Cynthia is an old friend, not very happy, not the fortunate and blessed girl that your love is making of me. But she is good and sweet and loyal to me, and I can't abandon old friends, especially one who is not very fortunate—and I—I thought perhaps it might help her a little—in various ways—to be my bridesmaid."
"That is like you," he said, reddening. "You never say or do anything but there lies in it some primary lesson in decency to me."