The angels looking on might have judged from the ready tempers of the newly married and not entirely unmarried twain that their new alliance promised to be as exciting as their previous estates. Perhaps the man subtly felt the presence of those eternal eavesdroppers, for he tried to end the love-duel in the corridor with an appeasing caress and a tender appeal: "But let's not start our honeymoon with a quarrel."
His partial wife returned the caress and tried to explain: "I'm not quarreling with you, dear heart, but with the horrid divorce laws. Why, oh, why did we ever interfere with them?"
He made a brave effort with: "We ended two unhappy marriages, Edith, to make one happy one."
"But I'm so unhappy, Arthur, and so afraid."
He seemed a trifle afraid himself and his gaze was askance as he urged: "But the train will start soon, Edith—and then we shall be safe."
Mrs. Fosdick had a genius for inventing unpleasant possibilities. "But what if your former wife or my former husband should have a detective on board?"
"A detective?—poof!" He snapped his fingers in bravado. "You are with your husband, aren't you?"
"In Illinois, yes," she admitted, very dolefully. "But when we come to Iowa, I'm a bigamist, and when we come to Nebraska, you're a bigamist, and when we come to Wyoming, we're not married at all."
It was certainly a tangled web they had woven, but a ray of light shot through it into his bewildered soul. "But we're all right in Utah. Come, dearest."
He took her by the elbow to escort her into their sanctuary, but still she hung back.