“He is so far beneath you, Geoff, morally, that I cannot bear to have you lower yourself enough to notice him, and believe me, he received a lesson that he will not soon forget,” Gladys concluded, with a spirit and energy that both amused and delighted Geoffrey, who well knew what his betrothed was capable of when once thoroughly aroused, and he could imagine something of the scorn which the offender in question had called down upon his devoted head by his presumption. So he finally promised that he would not agitate the matter further, and he realized that it might result in a scandal that would prove very annoying just at that time. It seemed, too, as if Everet Mapleson himself had no desire to come in contact with his successful rival, for he suddenly dropped out of society, and was seen no more during the interval between that occurrence at the opera and the thirtieth. He was greatly missed, however, by many of the languishing belles, for he was esteemed “a great catch,” and had been most industriously angled for by numerous anxious mammas, and scheming fathers with a doubtful bank account. Miss Addie Loring, perhaps, really took his sudden and unaccountable absence more to heart than any one else, for she had secretly begun to entertain a tender liking for him. During the last week before the wedding, that event became the chief topic of the day in the circle in which Gladys and Geoffrey moved, for the match was considered a most romantic one, and both parties were especial favorites, while for brilliancy and magnitude it was to be the affair of the season. Gifts of every description poured in upon the young couple, for whom their friends seemed unable to do enough to manifest their regard for them. “Mamma, I have silver and china enough to set up four establishments; what shall I do with it all?” Gladys laughingly remarked, one morning, after the arrival of numerous packages and cases. “While as for jewelry, _bric a brac_, and ornaments,” she continued, “I shall never have room nor opportunity to display them all.” “You have been most lavishly remembered, dear,” returned Mrs. Huntress; but she sighed while she smiled over the evidences of her daughter’s popularity, as she thought of the care and responsibility which it would entail upon her in the future. “It is very, very nice to be remembered by one’s friends, and pleasant to know that one has so many,” Gladys said, thoughtfully taking up a delicate vase, which rude handling would have crushed to atoms, but which she knew represented a large amount of money, “but if they would only give me some simple little token, just to show that they really care for me, I should not feel quite so overwhelmed. Perhaps I am too sensitive and notional, but I think the weight of obligation which is sometimes imposed upon brides is almost frightful, that is, unless they marry—as I am _not_ doing—men who can enable them to indulge in similar extravagance in return later on.”