“But—”
“Not another word. It’s all settled. I think it’s a splendid idea. We’ll be married to-morrow if possible. I’ll get a licence at once. By the way, what’s your name? It’s of no consequence, you know, but I fancy it’s necessary for the licence.”
“Anastasia Guinoval.”
“Thank you. Now I’ll take you to where you live, and you must accept a little money to satisfy your landlady. To-morrow I’ll call for you. Hold on a minute—as we’re affianced, seems to me we ought to kiss?”
“I—don’t know.”
“Yes, I believe it’s customary.” I pecked at her lightly in the dark. “Now, you understand we’re making a real sensible marriage, without any sentimental nonsense about it. You understand I’m not a sentimental man. I hate sentiment.”
“I understand,” she said doubtfully.
As we moved away, up there in the dark that great sonorous bell boomed the stroke of one. Only an hour, yet how busy had the fates been on my particular account! In what ludicrous ways had they worked out their design! On what trivial things does destiny seem to hinge! Ah! who shall say what is trivial?
On reaching my room my first act was to take up my half-finished letter to Mrs. Fitz. I read the words: “If ever we should find ourselves free to marry, you promised you would send for me.”
“Good!” I cried exultantly. “She will find herself free to marry all right, but I won’t; that is, I hope I won’t after to-morrow. Whoever could have guessed the motive behind my apparently rash proposal. To avoid one marriage I stake my chances on another. Well, that settles things as far as Mrs. Fitz is concerned. Ronnie and Lonnie, I defy you.”