Whirling mischievously she played a few bars of "Mendelsohn's Wedding March," then sprang from the piano stool and ran forward with outstretched hands.

"You are truly magnificent!" she breathed impulsively.
Mrs.Harlowe had also risen.

Was this radiant young woman in lustrous white satin, whose changeful face looked out so sweetly from the softly flowing bridal veil, the same little Grace Harlowe who had not so very long ago romped her tom-boyish way through childhood?
A mist rose to her eyes, soft with brooding mother love, as she walked forward and took Grace gently in her arms.
For an instant the three women remained wrapped in a kind of triangular embrace.

Then Mrs.Harlowe released her daughter with a fond, "Walk across the room, Grace, so that we can get the full effect of your grandeur." "It's a darling gown," praised Nora.

"I like it ever so much better than Jessica's, Anne's or mine.