erely with faith and trust, but with absolute certainty that
marriage, if delayed, was only postponed; that a week, a month at the
furthest, would see her his wife.

On the way she had stopped and wired to Gay street, telling her father
not to worry, that she had gone to be married, that she would write to
him soon.

Whether he had worried she could only surmise. But soon she had
written, inclosing a photograph of Loftus, one which she had colored,
an excellent likeness that displayed his chiseled features, wonderful
eyes and thin, black mustache with a perfection of precision that was
lifelike. Above it she wrote: "Marie's Husband." It would please her
father, she was sure, and in the letter she told him prettily, in a
little, cajoling way which he loved, that while, for the moment, he
must not know where she was, yet shortly she was planning to come and
surprise him--to surprise him more than he could ever imagine, and
show him that he could be very, very proud of her, but prouder still,
much, much prouder of the man she had married.

The plan, delightful to her, first the illness of her lover's mother,
then the lady's absence from town, prevented her from at once
effecting. Then, greatly to her uneasiness, she found that the plan
must be yet further delayed. Mrs. Loftus had gone to her manor on the
Hudson, where, her son declared, he could not take Marie "like that."
Financially it was stupid to rush things. Gradually his mother must be
prepared. Moreover, as preparation could be decently managed only in
town, to which she would not now return until autumn, it would be a
good idea to run over to Europe.

So spoke Royal Loftus. It was all false as an obituary. Financially he
was entirely independent of his mother, who, at the time, was not at
her manor, but just around the corner and never better in her life.
But Marie, wholly infatuated, quite willing to believe that the moon
was made of green cheese if only he took the trouble to so inform her,
accepted it all for gospel.

The delay, of course, was a deep disappointment. She felt it, and felt
it acutely. But in Europe she supposed that people would not know, and
would not care a rap if they did, Loftus hastened to assure her.

To his project, therefore, she yielded. Presently she was glad that
she had. The journey itself was a joy. At the Arundel he had come and
gone. Often she had been lonely. Often she had sat through hours that
limped themselves away, wait