Some one had once, in his hearing, called him a prig. The beautiful city that she had been awed by and even grown to love had been abandoned. Only one thing emerged with any reasonable clarity in her mind at once, and that was that unless she was saved from drowning by an unmarried man, in which case the ceremony is unavoidable, or totally destitute of under-clothing, and so driven to get a trousseau, in which hardship a trousseau would certainly be “ripping,” marriage was an experience to be strenuously evaded. ” “Don’t tempt me,” she said, laughing, and drawing her opera-cloak together.
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