“I’m patient,” he said, softly.  “You see how patient I am. ...  I can wait... when waiting will bring me so much. ...  At twelve o’clock?  That’s the swell hour,” he laughed.  “Shall I drag along a bishop or will an ordinary minister do?”

She tried to smile in response.

“Good night, dear,” he said, and raised her hand again to his lips.

“Good night.”

“Is that all?”

“All.”

“No—­trimmings?  You might say good night to the groceryman that way.”

“Good night-dear,” she said, obediently.

“It’s true.  I’m not dreaming it.  Noon to-morrow?”

“Noon to-morrow,” she repeated.

He walked to the door, stopped, turned, hesitated as if to come back.  Then he smiled at her boyishly, happily, wagged his head gayly, as though admonishing himself to be about his business and to stop philandering, and went out. ...  He did not see her drag herself to the sofa wearily; he did not see her sink upon it and bury her face again in the cushions; he did not hear the sobs that wrenched and shook her. ...  He would then have understood that this was not the usual way for a girl to enter her engagement.  He would have understood that something was wrong, very wrong.

After waiting a long time for her daughter to come out, Mrs. Frazer opened the door determinedly and went in.  Ruth sat up and, wiping her eyes on a tear-soggy handkerchief, said: 

“I’m going to marry Bonbright Foote to-morrow noon mother.”

Mrs. Frazer sat down very suddenly in a chair which was fortunately at hand, and stared at her daughter.

“Of all things...” she said, weakly.

Bonbright was on the way to make a similar announcement to his parents.  It was a task he did not approach with pleasure; indeed, he did not look forward with pleasure to any sort of meeting with his father.  In his heart he had declared his independence.  He had broken away from Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, had clambered out of the family groove—­had determined to be himself and to maintain his individuality at any cost. ...  Ruth would make it easier for him.  To marry Ruth was the first great step toward independence and the throwing off of the yoke of the Foote tradition.

As he walked home he planned out what he would say and what he would do with respect to his position in the family.  He could not break away from the thing wholly.  He could not step out of Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, as one steps out of an old coat, and think no more of it.  No. ...  But he would demand concessions.  He would insist upon being something in the business, something real.  He would no longer be an office boy, a rubber stamp, an automaton, to do thus and to do so when his father pressed the requisite buttons. ...  Oh, he would go back to the office, but it would be to a very different office and to function in a very different manner.