And Edith put her handkerchief to her mouth and giggled disreputably.

But, anyway, we got married.
The preacher gave Beryl an impressive lily-and-rose certificate, which caused her much embarrassment, because it would not go into any pocket of hers or mine, but must be carried ostentatiously in the hand.

I believe Edith was a bit jealous of that beflowered roll.

_Her_ preacher had been out of certificates, and had made shift with a plain, undecorated sheet of foolscap that Frosty said looked exactly like a home-made bill of sale.
I told Edith she could paint some lilies around the edge, and she flounced out with her nose in the air.
We had decided that we must go back in the morning and face the music.

We had no desire to be arrested for stealing Weaver's car, and there was not a man in Osage who could be trusted to drive it back.