by the time you arrive at my former rooms you'll find them ready for you and the key of the dining-room under the door-mat. Turn it to your left and walk in. The rent won't be due for a week."
Don was as incapable of argument as he was of suggesting any better plan; and Pittsey, having stopped the cab at a street corner, shook hands with them smilingly, gave directions to the cabman and watched them drive off.
They went in darkness, in silence, side by side. At the the turning of a corner, Don said, out of an emotion that had evidently been throttling him: "We're—we're married!"
"Oh, Don," she cried, "we shouldn't have! We shouldn't have done it!"
He put an arm about her. "Wait!" he exulted.
"Just wait till I show you. Just you—just you wait! We'll be the happiest!"
X
It is the triumph of the imaginative man that he makes the best lover in the world; and Don's love had been, for so long, the faith of his life that even the realities of married intercourse did not more than ritualize it into a religion. If Margaret had been unable to appreciate it in its silent devotions, she thrilled and glowed to it now that it had become voluble and formulary. And like so many women who marry young, her maiden sentiment was a pale and mild
