He telephoned a careful description of the two men and their whereabouts, and before he had hung up the receiver a man had started post-haste for the Y.W.C.A.  Building.

Then Tryon Dunham put the girl tenderly into the carriage, and to divert her attention he opened the box of flowers and put a great sheaf of white roses and lilies-of-the-valley into the little gloved hands.  Then, taking her in his arms for the first time, he kissed her.  He noticed the shabby gloves, and, putting his hand in his breast pocket, drew out the white gloves she had worn before, saying, “See!  I have carried them there ever since you sent them back!  My sister never asked for them.  I kept them for your sake.”

The color had come back into her cheeks when they reached the church, and he thought her a beautiful bride as he led her into the dim aisle.  Some one up in the choir loft was playing the wedding march, and the minister’s wife and young daughter sat waiting to witness the ceremony.

The minister met them at the door with a welcoming smile and hand-shake, and led them forward.  As the music hushed for the words of the ceremony, he leaned forward to the young man and whispered: 

“I neglected to ask you her name, Tryon.”

“Oh, yes.”  The young man paused in his dilemma and looked for an instant at the sweet face of the girl beside him.  But he could not let his friend see that he did not know the name of his wife-to-be, and with quick thought he answered, “Mary!”

The ceremony proceeded, and the minister’s voice sounded out solemnly in the empty church:  “Do you, Tryon, take this woman whom you hold by the hand to be your lawful wedded wife?”

The young man’s fingers held the timid hand of the woman firmly as he answered, “I do.”

“Do you, Mary, take this man?” came the next question, and the girl looked up with clear eyes and said, “I do.”

Then the minister’s wife, who knew and prized Tryon Dunham’s friendship, said to herself:  “It’s all right.  She loves him.”

When the solemn words were spoken that bound them together through life, and they had thanked their kind friends and were once more out in the carriage, Tryon said: 

“Do you know you haven’t told me your real name yet?”

She laughed happily as the carriage started on its way, and answered, “Why, it is Mary!”

As the carriage rounded the first corner beyond the church, two breathless individuals hurried up from the other direction.  One was short and baggy, and the sole of one rubber flopped dismally as he struggled to keep up with the alert strides of the other man, who was slim and angry.  They had been detained by an altercation with the matron of the Y.W.C.A.  Building, and puzzled by the story of the plainly dressed girl who had taken the room, and the fine lady who had left the building in company with a gentleman, until it was settled by the elevator boy, who declared the two women to be one and the same.