The delivery vault thumped, and the signal light flicked on. Sue rushed to slide up the door.
"Orchids!" they chorused mentally, and Sue noticed with satisfaction that June's thought was as strong as the others. The lovely flowers were put in the cooler, the apartment was tidied and they turned to the exciting task of becoming beautiful for their handsome husband.
The tiff over the coffee was forgotten as they became immersed in sprays, powders, tints, cosmetics, body ornaments and the precious nuptial perfume. This latter, issued to them only yesterday when they signed the register and received the license, was now as traditionally exclusive to weddings as trousseaus had been centuries ago.
Feminine clothing, of course, had long since been eliminated from the occasion, along with other redundancies such as waggish and mischievous guests, old shoes, rice and hectic honeymoon trips.
The official and religious arrangements had been completed yesterday at the registry and the chapel, the union to become legal and effective at noon on this day. When Hollis Jamison walked through their door at twelve o'clock he would bring four gold rings, and the moment the rings were placed on the proper fingers the ceremony was complete.
Doris said, "Let's steal just a tiny whiff of the perfume. I'm too curious to wait."
June and Polly were game, but Sue cut them off. "Not on your life! I used to know a chemist at the hormone labs where they compound this stuff, and he told me about it. We have things to do, and if what he told me is true—well, it's very distracting."
Polly backed her up, "I hear it is terribly volatile. I guess we wouldn't want it to wear off before Hollis came."
"Hollis!" The thought was June's, and it came thin and quavery. "What—do you suppose it's like to be married?"
No one answered, for there was no experience among them. Each had her own romantic idea, so cherished, so private that even within the intimacy of their clique it was too sacred to discuss.