"The Philippines," he said, and for the first time there was something beautiful in their remoteness. "Perhaps we shall cross the Pacific on the same boat." The first sincere smile he had experienced came to him: "I go on an army transport, fortu--unfortunately." "Oh, I just love soldiers. Couldn't mamma and I go on the transport? Mamma is very fond of soldiers, too." "I'm afraid it couldn't be arranged." "Too bad, but perhaps we can stop off and pay you a visit. I just love army posts. So does mamma." "Oh, do!" "What will be your address?" "Just the Philippines--just the Philippines." "But aren't there quite a few of them?" "Only about two thousand." "Which one will you be on?" "I'll be on the third from the left," said Mallory, who neither knew nor cared what he was saying. Marjorie had endured all that she could stand. She rose in a tightly leashed fury. "I'm afraid I'm in the way." Kathleen turned in surprise. She had not noticed that anyone was near. Mallory went out of his head completely. "Oh, don't go--for heaven's sake don't go," he appealed to Marjorie. "A friend of yours?" said Kathleen, bristling. "No, not a friend," in a chaotic tangle, "Mrs.--Miss--Miss--Er--er--er----" Kathleen smiled: "Delighted to meet you, Miss Ererer." "The pleasure is all mine," Marjorie said, with an acid smile. "Have you known Harry long?" said Kathleen, jealously, "or are you just acquaintances on the train?" "We're just acquaintances on the train!" "I used to know Harry very well--very well indeed." "So I should judge. You won't mind if I leave you to talk over old times together?" "How very sweet of you." "Oh, don't mention it." "But, Marjorie," Mallory cried, as she turned away. Kathleen started at the ardor of his tone, and gasped: "Marjorie! Then he--you----" "Not at all--not in the least," said Marjorie. At this crisis the room was suddenly inundated with people. Mrs. Whitcomb, Mrs. Wellington, Mrs. Temple and Mrs. Fosdick, all trying to look like bridesmaids, danced in, shouting: "Here they come! Make way for the bride and groom!" CHAPTER XXX A WEDDING ON WHEELS The commotion of the matrimony-mad women brought the men trooping in from the smoking room and there was much circumstance of decorating the scene with white satin ribbons, a trifle crumpled and dim of luster. Mrs. Whitcomb waved them at Mallory with a laugh: "Recognize these?" He nodded dismally. His own funeral baked meats were coldly furnishing forth a wedding breakfast for Ira Lathrop. Mrs. Wellington was moving about distributing kazoos and Mrs. Temple had an armload of old shoes, some of which had thumped Mallory on an occasion which seemed so ancient as to be almost prehistoric. Fosdick was howling to the porter to get some rice, quick! "How many portions does you approximate?" "All you've got." "Boiled or fried?" "Any old way." The porter ran forward to the dining-car for the ammunition.