"Now," said Mrs. Mowbray, "there is another thing. Don't you think Rotha ought to wear a veil?"
Mrs. Mowbray was getting mischievous. Her sweet blue eyes looked up at
Mr. Southwode with a sparkle in them.
"Why should I wear a veil?" said Rotha.
"It is the custom."
"But I do not care in the least for custom. It's a nonsensical custom, too."
"Brides are supposed to want a shield between them and the world," Mrs. Mowbray went on. She loved to tease, yet she never teased Rotha; one reason for which, no doubt, was that Rotha never could be teased. She could laugh at the fun of a suggestion, without at all making it a personal matter. But now her cheeks shewed her not quite unconcerned.
"The world will not be here," she replied. "I understand, in a great crowd it might be pleasant, and as part of a pageant it is pretty; but here there will be no crowd and no pageant; and I do not see why there should be a veil."
"It is becoming—" suggested Mrs. Mowbray.
"But one cannot continue to wear a veil; and why should one try to look preternaturally well just for five minutes?"
"They are five minutes to be remembered," said Mrs. Mowbray, while both
Rotha's hearers were amused.