"It would be very nice--and very simple," responded Selma, slowly. "You
wouldn't think any the worse of me, Wilbur, if I were to marry you
to-night?"

"The worse of you? It is what I would like of all things. Whom does it
concern but us? Why should we wait in order to make a public spectacle
of ourselves?"

"I shouldn't wish that. I should insist on being married very quietly.
Under all the circumstances there is really no reason--it seems to me it
would be easier if we were to be married as soon as possible. It would
avoid explanations and talk, wouldn't it? That is, if you are perfectly
sure."

"Sure? That I love you? Oh Selma!"

She shut her eyes under the thrill which his kiss gave her. "Then we
will be married whenever you wish," she said.

It was already late in the afternoon, so that the prospects of obtaining
a license did not seem favorable. Still it happened that Littleton knew
a clergyman of his own faith--Unitarian--in Benham, a college classmate,
whom he suggested as soon as he understood that Selma preferred not to
be married by Mr. Glynn. They found him at home, and by diligent
personal effort on his part the necessary legal forms were complied with
and they were made husband and wife three hours before the departure of
the evening train for New York. After the ceremony they stepped
buoyantly, arm in arm in the dusk, along the street to send the telegram
to Miss Littleton, and to snatch a hasty meal before Selma went to her
lodgings to pack. There were others in the restaurant, so having