“Yes,” she replied; “General and I are the best of friends,” and she leaned over and softly patted the handsome head. “And General’s master and I are going to be, too, are we not, Mr. Richards?”
“Yes, we are going to be—that is, I hope so,” Richards said slowly.
The next moment the door closed, and she was gone. And Richards picked up a pipe, and lit it, and, turning to the dog, thoughtfully remarked:
“And so endeth the first lesson.”
Of course it’s obvious. Love does not need to be diagramed. And, of course, a year later, when the big brownstone had its awning, and its carpeted steps, and its music, and its flowers, all was quite as it should be. And of course their friends heard the Mendelssohn march, and threw rice, and wished them joy. And Bob Cutting was best man? Of course not. And did the Mother Grundies shrug their white shoulders, and say: “What a beautiful bride! but I wonder how she could have done it; they say she was engaged to another?” Of course they did. And that is love, and about the way it generally turns out. Of course.
The Marchburn Mystery.
BY A. MAURICE LOW.