"Well, in the first place, honey, look what time it is. Hardly more than time enough to get the train, to say nothing of hunting for that preacher and standing up through a long rigmarole."
"Why, Harry Mallory, are you getting ready to jilt me?"
"Indeed I'm not—not for worlds, honey, but I've got to get that train, haven't I?"
"Couldn't you wait over one train—just one tiny little train?"
"My own, own honey love, you know it's impossible! You must remember that I've already waited over three trains while you tried to make up your mind."
"And you must remember, darling, that it's no easy matter for a girl to decide to sneak away from home and be married secretly, and go all the way out to that hideous Manila with no trousseau and no wedding presents and no anything."
"I know it isn't, and I waited patiently while you got up the courage. But now there are no more trains. I shudder to think of this train being late. We're not due in San Francisco till Thursday evening, and my transport sails at sunrise Friday morning. Oh, Lord, what if I should miss that transport! What if I should!"
"What if we should miss the minister?"
"It begins to look a great deal like it."
"But, Harry, you wouldn't desert me now—abandon me to my fate?"