He was just getting cross about your being late for dinner—you know his way—when it came. “It isn’t only the dance,” she said. Only one thing emerged with any reasonable clarity in her mind at once, and that was that unless she was saved from drowning by an unmarried man, in which case the ceremony is unavoidable, or totally destitute of under-clothing, and so driven to get a trousseau, in which hardship a trousseau would certainly be “ripping,” marriage was an experience to be strenuously evaded. I’m taking no chances. She found the silence comforting, as old people often do. CHAPTER XVII. A cool gray light illuminated small portions of the stone floor. It was not until the morning of the fifth day that the constant vigil was broken.
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