Her agitation, a relic of the unknown interview just past, simmered down soon, leaving her in a becoming glow of colour, with slender threads of moisture brilliantly outlining her eyelids.  Mr. Enfield, a young, well-favoured and recent importation from another town, was deliciously impressed by the charm of the waiting lady.  They had not met; and Enfield wondered how Trumble had compassed such an enormous success as this; and he wished that he had seen her before matters had gone so far.  He thought he might have had a chance.  She seemed pleasantly interested in him, even as it was—­and her eyes were wonderful, with their swift, warm, direct little plunges into those of a chance comrade of the moment.  She went to the window, in her restlessness, looking down upon the swarming street below, and the young man, standing beside her, felt her shoulder most pleasantly though very lightly—­in contact with his own, as they leaned forward, the better to see some curiosity of advertising that passed.  She turned her face to his just then, and told him that he must come to see her:  the wedding journey would be long, she said, but it would not be forever.

Trumble bounded in, shouting that everything was attended to, except instructions to Enfield, whom he pounded wildly upon the back.  He began signing papers; a stenographer was called from another room of his offices; and there was half an hour of rapid-fire.  Cora’s bag came, and she gave the bearer the note for Laura; another bag was brought for Wade; and both bags were carried down to the automobile the bridegroom had left waiting in the street.  Last, came a splendid cluster of orchids for the bride to wear, and then Wade, with his arm about her, swept her into the corridor, and the stirred Enfield was left to his own beating heart, and the fresh, radiant vision of this startling new acquaintance:  the sweet mystery of the look she had thrown back at him over his employer’s shoulder at the very last.  “Do not forget me!” it had seemed to say.  “We shall come back—­some day.”

The closed car bore the pair to the little grim marriage-shop quickly enough, though they were nearly run down by a furious police patrol automobile, at a corner near the Richfield Hotel.  Their escape was by a very narrow margin of safety, and Cora closed her eyes.  Then she was cross, because she had been frightened, and commanded Wade cavalierly to bid the driver be more careful.

Wade obeyed sympathetically.  “Of course, though, it wasn’t altogether his fault,” he said, settling back, his arm round his lady’s waist.  “It’s an outrage for the police to break their own rules that way.  I guess they don’t need to be in a hurry any more than we do!”

The Justice made short work of it.