you--"

"Good-by!"

Over a luncheon that lay cold and unrelished between them Irving Shapiro
leaned to Miriam Binswanger, his voice competing with the five-piece
orchestra and noonday blather of the Oriental Cafe.

"I just can't get it in my head, somehow, Miriam, that to-morrow this
time you'll be out on the sea."

"Me neither."

"I just never had two weeks fly like these since we got acquainted."

"Me--me neither."

Music like great laughter rose over the slip-up in her voice.

"You going to write to me, Miriam?"

"Yes, Irving."

"Often?"

"Yes, Irving."

"You're not going to forget me over there, are you, when you get to
meeting all those counts and big fellows?"

"Oh, Irving!"

"You're not going to clean forget me then, are you, Miriam, and the
great times we've had together, and the days in the woods, and the
singing, and--"

"Oh, Irving, don't. I--Please--"

She laid her fork across her untouched plate and turned her face from
him. Tears rose to choke her, and, tighten her throat against them as
she would, one rose to the surface and ricocheted down her cheek.

"Why, Miriam!"

"It's nothing, Irving, only--only let's get out of here. I don't want
any lunch, I just don't."

"Miriam, that's the way I feel, too. I--I just can't bear to have you
go!"

"You--We can't talk like that, Irving."

"I tell you, Miriam, I just can't bear it!"

"I--I--oh--"

He leaned across the table for her hand, whispering, with an entire
flattening of tone, "Miriam, don't go!"

"Irving, don't--talk so--so silly!"

"Miriam, let's--let's you and me stay at home!"

"Irving!"

"Let's, Miriam!"

"Irving, are you crazy?" But her voice yearned toward him.

"Miriam, right at this table I've got an idea. We can do it, Miriam; we
can do it if you're game."

"Do what?"

He flashed out his watch. "We've got two hours and twenty minutes before
she sails."

"Irving!"

"We have, dear, to--to get a special license and the ring and do the
trick."

"Why, I--"

"Two hours and twenty minutes to make it all right for you to stay back
with me. Miriam, are you game, dear?"

They regarded each other across the table as if each beheld in the other
a vision.

"Irving, you--you must be crazy!"

"I'm not, dear. I was never less crazy. What's the use of us having to
get apart after we just got each other? What's all those phony counts
and picture-galleries and high-sounding stunts compared to us staying
home an