I saw her throat flutter.
"I mean that we must be married to-night before I go.

Before eight o'clock I must be on the train." "When will you be back ?" she whispered.
"How can I tell?
When I go, my wife shall wait there at Elmhurst, instead of my sweetheart." She turned away from me, contemplative.

She, too, was young.

Ardor appealed to her.

Life stood before her, beckoning, as to me.