Courtship -- Fiction; Forgery -- Fiction; Swindlers and swindling -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
"Yesterday, I tell you." She set her hand on the little man's
shoulder. "Wade, there's bound to be a scandal over all this. Even
if Corliss gets away without being arrested and tried, the whole
thing's bound to come _out_. I'll be the laughing-stock of the
town--and I deserve to be: it's all through having been ridiculous
idiot enough to try and impress you with my business brilliancy.
Well, I can't stand it!"
"Cora, do you----" He faltered.
She leaned toward him, her hand still on his shoulder, her
exquisite voice lowered, and thrilling in its sweetness. "Wade,
I'm through playing. I've come to you at last because you've
utterly conquered me. If you'll take me away to-day, I'll _marry_
you to-day!"
He gave a shout that rang again from the walls.
"Do you want me?" she whispered; then smiled upon his rapture
indulgently.
Rapture it was. With the word "marry," his incredulity sped
forever. But for a time he was incoherent: he leaped and hopped,
spoke broken bits of words, danced fragmentarily, ate her with his
eyes, partially embraced her, and finally kissed her timidly.
"Such a wedding we'll have!" he shouted, after that.
"No!" she said sharply. "We'll be married by a Justice of the
Peace and not a soul there but us, and it will be now, or it never
will be! If you don't----"
He swore she should have her way.
"Then we'll be out of this town on the three o'clock train this
afternoon," she said. She went on with her plans, while he,
growing more accustomed to his privilege, caressed her as he
would. "You shall have your way," she said, "in everything except
the wedding-journey. That's got to be a long one--I won't come
back here till people have forgotten all about this Corliss
mix-up. I've never been abroad, and I want you to take me. We can
stay a long, long time. I've brought nothing--we'll get whatever
we want in New York before we sail."
He agreed to everything. He had never really hoped to win her;
paradise had opened, dazing him with glory: he was astounded, mad
with joy, and abjectly his lady's servant.
"Hadn't you better run along and get the license?" she laughed.
"We'll have to be married on the way to the train." "Cora!" he
gasped. "You angel!"
"I'll wait here for you," she smiled. "There won't be too much
time."
He obtained a moderate control of his voice and feet.
"Enfield--that's my cashier--he'll be back from his lunch at
one-thirty. Tell him about us, if I'm not here by then. Tell him
he's got to manage somehow. Good-bye till I come back Mrs.
Trumble!"
At the door he turned. "Oh, have you--you----" He paused
uncertainly. "Have you sent Richard Lindley any word about----"
"Wade!" She gave his inquiry an indulgent amusement. "If I'm not
worrying about him, do you think you need to?"
"I meant about----"
"You funny thing," she said. "I never had any idea of really
marrying him; it wasn't anything but one of those silly
half-engagements, and----"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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