“I, Lulu, take thee, Ninian, to be my wedded husband.”

“You will?” Ninian cried.

“I will,” she said, laughing tremulously, to prove that she too could join in, could be as merry as the rest.

“And I will.  There, by Jove, now have we entertained you, or haven’t we?” Ninian laughed and pounded his soft fist on the table.

“Oh, say, honestly!” Ina was shocked.  “I don’t think you ought to—­holy things——­what’s the matter, Dwightie?”

Dwight Herbert Deacon’s eyes were staring and his face was scarlet.

“Say, by George,” he said, “a civil wedding is binding in this state.”

“A civil wedding?  Oh, well—­” Ninian dismissed it.

“But I,” said Dwight, “happen to be a magistrate.”

They looked at one another foolishly.  Dwight sprang up with the indeterminate idea of inquiring something of some one, circled about and returned.  Ina had taken his chair and sat clasping Lulu’s hand.  Ninian continued to laugh.

“I never saw one done so offhand,” said Dwight.  “But what you’ve said is all you have to say according to law.  And there don’t have to be witnesses ... say!” he said, and sat down again.

Above that shroud-like plaited lace, the veins of Lulu’s throat showed dark as she Swallowed, cleared her throat, swallowed again.

“Don’t you let Dwight scare you,” she besought Ninian.

“Scare me!” cried Ninian.  “Why, I think it’s a good job done, if you ask me.”

Lulu’s eyes flew to his face.  As he laughed, he was looking at her, and now he nodded and shut and opened his eyes several times very fast.  Their points of light flickered.  With a pang of wonder which pierced her and left her shaken, Lulu looked.  His eyes continued to meet her own.  It was exactly like looking at his photograph.

Dwight had recovered his authentic air.

“Oh, well,” he said, “we can inquire at our leisure.  If it is necessary, I should say we can have it set aside quietly up here in the city—­no one’ll be the wiser.”

“Set aside nothing!” said Ninian.  “I’d like to see it stand.”

“Are you serious, Nin?”

“Sure I’m serious.”

Ina jerked gently at her sister’s arm.

“Lulu!  You hear him?  What you going to say to that?”

Lulu shook her head.  “He isn’t in earnest,” she said.

“I am in earnest—­hope to die,” Ninian declared.  He was on two legs of his chair and was slightly tilting, so that the effect of his earnestness was impaired.  But he was obviously in earnest.

They were looking at Lulu again.  And now she looked at Ninian, and there was something terrible in that look which tried to ask him, alone, about this thing.

Dwight exploded.  “There was a fellow I know there in the theatre,” he cried.  “I’ll get him on the line.  He could tell me if there’s any way—­” and was off.

Ina inexplicably began touching away tears.  “Oh,” she said, “what will mamma say?”