"It's lovely!"

"Glad you think so, too, Mrs. Kerr."

"Osborn, now tell me how my frock looked."

"I _couldn't!_" he cried in some awe. He sighed as if at a
beautiful memory.

"Ah!" said Marie, satisfied, "you liked it?"

She lay against his shoulder supremely content. The winter landscape,
which had lost its morning sun, was rushing by them and it looked
cold. But inside the honeymoon carriage all was warm, love-lit and
glowing. There was no dusk. Marie reviewed the day in her light, clear
mind, and it had been very good. Hers had been a wedding such as she
had always wanted. Osborn had looked so fine. She reviewed the details
so carefully thought out and arranged for by herself and her mother.
With the unthinking selfishness of a young gay girl, she discounted
the strain on the mother's purse and heart. The favours had been
exactly the right thing; the cake was good; the little rooms hadn't
seemed at all bad; Aunt Toppy's new gown was an unexpected concession
to the occasion; Mrs. Amber had been really almost distinguished; the
country cousins hadn't looked too dreadfully rural. People hadn't been
stiff, or awkward, or dull. As for Mr. Rokeby--that was a very
graceful speech he made. He was rather a gifted man; worth knowing.

But Osborn had very nice friends.