Springing up, I threw off my wrapper and reached down for my shoes.  “If you’d waked me before you put on your dress you wouldn’t have to take it off.  You’re going to wear that dress.”  I pointed to the one on the chair behind her.  “I’m sorry your wedding garments can’t be more festive, and that I’ll have to wear your good clothes, but we mustn’t run risks merely for pride.  Take your dress off quickly and give it to me.  Don’t look at me, but hurry.”

Madeleine’s mind does not work as quickly as some people’s, and a little time was lost in explaining that any description to which she would answer would have to apply to me, not her.  In consequence the cab was at the door before she was fully garmented in my plainest clothes and I arrayed in her beautiful ones, and regretfully she looked at me.  I am taller and slenderer than Madeleine, but fashion was in my favor, and the absence of fit and shortness of skirt gave emphasis of adherence to its requirements.  I looked the part.  She didn’t.

At the station Tom and Selwyn were waiting and their puzzled incomprehension was even greater than Madeleine’s had been.  Explanations included a few suggestions as to the wisdom of our separating and, the men agreeing, Selwyn and I went in the Pullman, and poor little rich Madeleine and Tom to a day-coach, where crying babies and peanut-hulls and close air and torn papers would have made them wretchedly unhappy had they not been happily unconscious of them.  I was sorry for them, but marriage involves much.  As the train pulled out I waved from the window to Mrs. Mundy, who, on the platform, waved back with one hand and with the other wiped her eyes.  Mrs. Mundy loves me, but she, too, does not always approve of me.

Travel evidently was light.  The sleeper in which we found ourselves had barely two-thirds of the berths made up, and, the rest of the seats being empty, we took ours in a corner where in an undertone we could talk and not disturb others.  Taking off Madeleine’s handsome fur coat and newest hat I put the latter in its paper bag and gave the former to Selwyn to hang on a hook.  Gloves and other things being disposed of, I again sat down and suggested that he, also, make himself comfortable, and at the same time change his expression.

“Later you can smoke, but at present you will have to be in here where I’m compelled to look at you.  The photographic injunction to look pleasant oughtn’t to apply only to the taking of pictures.  For the love of Heaven, sit down, Selwyn, and behave yourself!”

Selwyn hung up his hat and coat and took the seat opposite mine.  From him came radiation of endurance, and, objecting to being endured, I spoke impatiently.  I did not care to be traveling at four o’clock in the morning any more than he did, but much in life has to be done that isn’t preferable.  He had invited himself to take the trip.  His desire to share any criticism coming to me for my part in it was sincere, but rather than shielding it might subject me to an increased amount.  For the first time such a possibility came to me, and, looking up, I saw his eyes were gravely watching me.