joke is decidedly on me."

Garrison was silent, staring with hard eyes at the ground. He could not
begin to analyze his thoughts.

"You are not complimentary, at all events," he said quietly at length.

"So every one tells me," she sighed.

"I did not know of this arrangement," he added, looking up, a queer
smile twisting his lips.

"And now you are lonesomely miserable, like I am," she rejoined,
crossing a restless leg. "No doubt you left your ideal in New York.
Perhaps you are married already. Are you?" she cried eagerly, seizing
his arm.

"No such good luck--for you," he added, under his breath.

"I thought so," she sighed resignedly. "Of course no one would have you.
It's hopeless."

"It's not," he argued sharply, his pride, anger in revolt. He, who had
no right to any claim. "We're not compelled to marry each other. It's a
free country. It is ridiculous, preposterous."

"Oh, don't get so fussy!" she interrupted petulantly. "Don't you think
I've tried to kick over the traces? And I've had more time to think of
it than you--all my life. It is a family institution. Your uncle pledged
his nephew, if he should have one, and my parents pledged me. We are