"When is it to be?"
"When is what to be?"
"The wedding."
"Whose wedding?" Jimmy's tone was utterly innocent.
"Whose? Yours and Lucy's, to be sure."
"Mine and Lucy's? Why? Mary, I've never asked her yet."
"You've never asked her! Do you mean to tell me that when you can talk about her for seven or eight blocks, as you have, you have not even asked her to marry you? Why, James Trottingham Minton, you ought to be ashamed of yourself! Where does this paragon of women live? Take me to see her. I want to apologize for you."
"Won't it be better to get her to come in and lunch with us? She lives so far out you'd miss your train east this afternoon."
"The very thing. Would she come?"
"Why, yes. I asked her the other night and she said she would."