"Wallace!"--pity and reproval mingled in Sue's tone. Again she laid a hand on his sleeve. "Oh, don't let doubt or--or anything enter your heart now--at this wonderful hour of your life--oh, Wallace, when you're just beginning all your years with her! Your marriage must be happy! Marriages can be happy--I know it! They're not all like her mother's. But don't start wrong! Oh, don't start wrong!" There were tears in her eyes. Farvel came in from the Church. He was himself again, and slammed the door quite cheerily. Wallace turned almost as if to intercept him. "I've fixed everything, old man," he said quickly. "It's all right." "But I can officiate as well as not," urged Farvel, passing the younger man by and coming to Sue. "I don't want you to think I'm notional." "She won't," declared Wallace, before Sue could speak. "I've explained." "Ah." Farvel nodded, satisfied. "You--you know, then. Well, I've always wanted you to know." She tried to smile back at him, to find an answer. Her brother was urging Farvel to go. "You'll find someone to marry us, won't you?" he begged. "Right away, Alan?" "Oh, I understand," said Farvel. "I'd be a damper, wouldn't I?" "Oh, no! Not that!" Farvel laid a hand on Wallace's shoulder. "He feels as bad about it as I do, dear old fellow!" he said. The other moved away a step, and as if to take Farvel with him. "Yes, Alan. Yes. But don't talk about it today. Not today." Farvel crossed to the sofa and sat down. "I know," he admitted. "But today--this wedding--I don't--I can't seem to get her out of my mind." Then as if moved by a poignant thought, he bent his head and covered his face with both hands. Sue was beside him at once. And dropped to a knee. "Oh, I wish I could help you," she said comfortingly. Farvel did not look up. He began to speak in a muffled voice. "What did I do to deserve it?" he asked brokenly. "That's what I ask myself. What did I do?" "Nothing!" she answered. "Nothing! Oh, don't blame yourself." Her hand went up to touch one of his. He uncovered his face and looked at her. He seemed to have aged all at once. "Oh, forgive me," he pleaded. "I don't want to worry you." A gasping cry came from a door across the room. Mrs. Milo had entered, and was standing staring at the two in amazement and anger. "Susan Milo!" she cried. "Oh!" Without rising, Sue began to pick up bits of smilax dropped from the florist's basket. "Yes, mother?" she replied inquiringly. Mrs. Milo hurried forward. "What _are_ you doing on your knees?" "Mother dear," returned Sue, "did you ever see anything like smilax to get all over the place?" Her voice trembled like the voice of a child caught in wrongdoing. "One little bit here--one little bit there----" "Get up," ordered her mother, curtly. And as Sue rose, "What's the matter with you, Mr. Farvel? Are you sick?" "Mother!"--it was a low appeal.