Marie nodded; she remembered him, as she remembered everything else to do with her fateful wedding. He had been best man because Feathers had refused.
"What did he say?" she asked with dry lips.
"Oh, nothing!" Chris spoke as if it were a matter of no consequence. "We haven't arranged anything, but he asked me to run up to St. Andrews with him later on for some golf. You don't care for golf, I know, and I shouldn't care to go unless you were having 117 a good time somewhere, too . . ."
She did not care for golf. It was clever of him to put it that way, she thought, as she answered bravely:
"Well, why don't you go? You would enjoy it."
He looked at her for the first time, and there was a vague sort of discomfort in his handsome eyes.
"You're sure you don't mind?"
"Mind!" Marie almost laughed. What difference would it make if she told him that she hated the idea of his going away from her more than anything in the world. "Of course I don't mind; I should certainly arrange to go. I thought we agreed that we were each to go our own way?"
"I know we did, but I thought . . . well, if you are quite sure you don't mind."
"Quite sure." There was a little pause. "Perhaps Mr. Dakers will go, too," she hazarded.