to the
rose-taffeta-adorned boudoir to exchange her ivory satin for a
trim suit of emerald green. Everyone wished on the platinum circlet
of diamonds and there was the conventional throwing of the bouquet,
the rush through the back of the grounds to the hired taxi, the
screams of disappointment at the escape--and Mr. and Mrs. O'Valley
were en route on their honeymoon.

It remained for the detectives to guard the presents, the society
reporters to discover new adjectives of superlative praise, and the
guests to drink up the champagne and say: "Wonderful." "Must have cost
thousands." "Handsome couple. Couldn't have happened in any other
country but America." "War fortune." "Oh, yes, no doubt of it--hides
and razors turned the trick." "Well, how long do you think it is going
to last?"

The office forces of the O'Valley and Constantine companies had been
excused so as to be present at the ceremony. But Mary Faithful and
Trudy Burrows had not availed themselves of the opportunity. Womanly
rebellion and heartache suddenly blotted out Mary's emotionless scheme
of action. Besides, there was a valid excuse of waiting to catch an
important long-distance call. With Trudy it was mere envy causing her
to say over and over: "See Gay, the ragged little beggar, walk up the
aisle with one of those rich girls and never glance at me--just
because he's a Vondeplosshe? And me have to sit beside Nellie Lunk,
who'll cry when the organ plays and wear that ridiculous bathtub of a
hat? Never! I won't go unless I can walk up the aisle with Gay. Wait
until I see him to-night; I'll make it very pleasant."

Life seemed rather empty for Trudy as she sat in the deserted offices
pretending to add figures and trying to hum gayly. Even the box of
wedding cake laid on her desk--it was laid on everyone's desk--brought
forth no smile or intention of dreaming over it. Was she to spend her
days earning fifteen dollars a week in this feudal baron's employ?
Tears marred the intensive cultivation on her rouged cheeks as she
looked out the window to see the office force being brought back from
the church in trucks.

"Like cattle--peasants--all because of money. A war profiteer, that's
what he was. And she isn't anything at all except that she has her
father's money." She glanced toward Mary's closed door. "Poor Mary,"
she thought; "she cares! I don't--that makes it easier. Well, he could
have done worse than to take Mary," tossing her head as she tried to