they actually thought, since Mrs. Semple was good-looking and had some
money.

It was a warm October day when he and Lillian went to the altar, in the
First Presbyterian Church of Callowhill Street. His bride, Frank was
satisfied, looked exquisite in a trailing gown of cream lace--a creation
that had cost months of labor. His parents, Mrs. Seneca Davis, the
Wiggin family, brothers and sisters, and some friends were present. He
was a little opposed to this idea, but Lillian wanted it. He stood
up straight and correct in black broadcloth for the wedding
ceremony--because she wished it, but later changed to a smart business
suit for traveling. He had arranged his affairs for a two weeks' trip
to New York and Boston. They took an afternoon train for New York, which
required five hours to reach. When they were finally alone in the Astor
House, New York, after hours of make-believe and public pretense of
indifference, he gathered her in his arms.

"Oh, it's delicious," he exclaimed, "to have you all to myself."

She met his eagerness with that smiling, tantalizing passivity which
he had so much admired but which this time was tinged strongly with a
communicated desire. He thought he should never have enough of her, her
beautiful face, her lovely arms, her smooth, lymphatic body. They were
like two children, billing and cooing, driving, dining, seeing the
sights. He was curious to visit the financial sections of both cities.
New York and Boston appealed to him as commercially solid. He wondered,
as he observed the former, whether he should ever leave Philadelphia.
He was going to be very happy there now, he thought, with Lillian and
possibly a brood of young Cowperwoods. He was going to work hard and
make money. With his means and hers now at his command, he might become,