"Woman-hater?" laughed Ira. "It's the old story. I'm going to follow Mallory's example—marriage."
"I hope you succeed," said Mallory.
"Wherever did you pick up the bride?" said Wedgewood, mellowing with the long glass in his hand.
"Brides are easy," said Mallory, with surprising cynicism. "Where do you get the parson?"
"Hang the parson," Wedgewood repeated, "Who's the gel?"
"I'll bet I know who she is," Ashton interposed; "it's that nectarine of a damsel who got on at Green River."
"Not the same!" Lathrop roared. "I found my bride blooming here all the while. Girl I used to spark back in Brattleboro, Vermont. I've been vowing for years that I'd live and die an old maid. I've kept my head out of the noose all this time—till I struck this train and met up with Anne. We got to talking over old times—waking up old sentiments. She got on my nerves. I got on hers. Finally I said, 'Aw, hell, let's get married. Save price of one stateroom to China anyway.' She says, 'Damned if I don't!'—or words to that effect."
Mallory broke in with feverish interest: "But you said you were going to get married on this train."
"Nothing easier. Here's How!" and he raised his glass, but Mallory hauled it down to demand: "How? that's what I want to know. How are you going to get married on this parsonless express. Have you got a little minister in your suitcase?"
Ira beamed with added pride as he explained: