THE ELOPEMENT
The next morning Pelleas and I sat before our drawing-room fire talking over our amazing trip to Inglese.
“In that love affair of yesterday,” Pelleas said sadly, “we were good for absolutely nothing.”
“Ah, well, now,” I protested feebly, “we chaperoned.”
“Chaperons,” Pelleas said sententiously, “are nothing, per se. Chaperons are merely the evidence that everything is not seen.”
“At least,” said I, “that arietta of the Inutile Precauzione gives great charm to ‘The Barber.’”
“I know,” Pelleas assented; “so does the property man. But I should like us to be really good for something on our own account. In some pleasant affair or other—I don’t greatly care what.”
I looked out the window at New York.
“Think,” said I, “of all the people out there who are in love and who absolutely need our help.”
“It is shocking,” Pelleas assented gravely. “I could almost find it in my heart to advertise. How should we word it? ‘Pelleas and Etarre, Promoters of Love Stories Unlimited. Office Hours from Time to Eternity—’”