going to be a comic-weekly mother-in-law and make me the
laughing-stock of my set?"

Feeling the inadequacy of mere words to express the thought she had not
tried to express, Mrs. Goodchild called on her right hand for aid; she
pointed. Being concerned with gesture rather than intent on direction,
she, alas! pointed to a window.

He shook his head at her and then at the window, and told her: "To jump
out of that one would be as bad as having me arrested. Do you want the
infernal reporters to make you ridiculous? Do you realize that I am the
most-talked-about man in all New York? Don't you know what newspaper
ridicule is? Don't you? Say no!"

To make sure of her own grasp of the situation Mrs. Goodchild, who was
dying to shriek at the top of her voice, compressed her lips. H. R.
instantly perceived the state of affairs and double-turned the key by
fiendishly placing his right forefinger to his own lips. This would
give to his mother-in-law the two excellent habits of obedience and
silence.

He turned to the girl and said: "Grace, don't hide behind your mother.
Let me look my fill. It's got to last me a whole week!"

Grace saw in his face and knew from his voice that he was neither acting
nor raving. His words were as the gospel, the oldest of all gospels,
which, unlike all others, is particularly persuasive in the springtime.
He was a fine-looking chap, and the newspapers were full of him, and he
was in love with her. He interested her. But of course he was
impossible. But also she was New York, and, to prove it, she must be
epigrammatic. All her life she had listened to high-class vaudeville.
She said, icily, yet with a subtle consciousness of her own humor, "If
you wish to worship, why don't you try a church?"

"Which?" he retorted so promptly and meaningly that she almost felt the
wedding-ring on her finger. He pursued: "And when? I have the license
all ready. See?"

He pulled out of his pocket a long envelope containing a communication
from Valiquet's lawyer. "Here it is!" and he held it toward her.

Being young and healthy, she laughed approvingly.

"Has it come to this, in my own house?" exclaimed Mrs. Goodchild in
dismay. Being rich and living in New York, she did not know her
daughter's affairs.

"Why not?" asked H. R., with rebuking coldness. "In whose house should
our marriage be discussed?" Then he spoke to Grace with a fervor that
impressed both women: "I love you as men used to love when they we