Christopher thought it mattered the deuce of a lot, but then he was a man, and a man—even a bridegroom—never sees things through the same rose-colored glasses as a woman. 

It was such a little way from the church to the house that there was no time to say much more, and then they were home, and Miss Chester, who had followed hard on their heels in another car, was crying over Marie and kissing her again, and Marie woke to the fact that she was really a married woman! 

There was a sumptuous lunch, to which nobody but Aston Knight and the lawyer did justice, and then Marie went upstairs and changed her frock, because it was still pouring with rain, and wrapped her small self into a warm coat, and there were many kisses and good- bys, and at last it was all over and she and Chris were speeding away together. 

Perhaps it is sometimes a merciful dispensation of Providence that the eyes of love are blind, for Marie never saw the strained look on Christopher's face or the way in which his eyes avoided hers. She never thought it odd when in the train he provided her with a heap of magazines and the largest box of chocolates she had ever seen in her life, and unfolded a newspaper for his own amusement. 

She ate a chocolate and looked at him with shy adoration. He was her husband—she was to live with him for the rest of her life! 

There would be no more partings—no more dreary months and weeks during which she would never see him. He was her very own—forever! 

He seemed conscious of her gaze, for he looked up. 

"Tired?" he asked 

"No." 

"Hungry, then? You ate no lunch." 

"Oh, I did. I had ever such a lot." 

16 "We'll have a good dinner to-night, and some champagne." he said. 

16

"Yes." Marie had never tasted champagne until her wedding lunch to- day, and she did not like it, but to please Chris she would have drunk a whole bottleful uncomplainingly. 

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