Yes, that's what he said. For ten years he'd sent girls cigarettes and offered them cigarettes and sat with them in corners while they smoked cigarettes. But he didn't want his wife smoking. Wasn't it typical? Oh, well, I didn't care. I'd do as I liked once we were married. Then about half way, without the slightest warning, I knew I couldn't marry him. Marry him! Why, I didn't even like him. And the way he made me sit with my hand in his coat pocket was sickening. "I don't think I'll marry you after all," I said. "Eh? What?" "I said I've changed my mind. I won't do it." "I haven't changed mine." "I'm not really in love with you." "You're nervous," he said calmly. "Go ahead and talk. It's the new psychology. Never bury your worries. Talk 'em out and get rid of 'em." "I was never forbidden to see you." "All right," he said contentedly. "I knew that all along. What else?" "Even my hand in your coat pocket is a trick." "Sure it is, but it's a nice trick. What else?" "I'm not going to marry you." "Oh, yes, you are. You can't very well go back, can you? Mother's probably called up the papers already." Then he sat up and looked at me. "Now, look here, young lady," he said. "I'm no idiot. I knew before you were born some of the stunts you pulled. I've never been fooled for a minute about them. But you're going to marry me. Why? Because I'm crazy about you. That's why. And that's enough." It was terrible. And there was no way out, none. The train rumbled on. There was a tunnel and he kissed me. It was a short tunnel. Somebody behind chuckled. And then at last it was over, and we were there, and I was being led like a sheep to the altar, and Henry was on the platform with ring and license and all the implements of sacrifice. "Behold," said Russell from the train platform, "the family friend is on hand. Whose idea was Henry, anyhow? His or yours or mother's?" Henry came up. He looked cheerful enough, although I fancied he was pale. I liked his necktie. I always liked Henry's ties. "Hello," he said. "Everything here? Where's your luggage?" "Baggage car," said Russell. "Look after Kit, Henry, will you? I'll see to it." He hadn't taken two steps before Henry had clutched my arm. "I knew you wouldn't," he said. "I can see it in your face." "Henry!" I gasped. "What am I to do?" "You're to marry me," he said in a sort of fierce whisper. "Don't stop to argue. I've always meant to marry you. Quick, into the taxi!" That's all I remember just then, except hearing him say he had the license and the ring, and an uproar from where we'd left Russell and all his money on the platform. "Wha-what sort of license?" I asked, with my teeth chattering from pure fright. "If it's in Russell's name it's not good, is it?" "It's in my name," said Henry, grimly. "But the ring--that's Russell's."