She hesitated an instant. Then she answered softly, but with decision: "No." Anthony drew a long breath. "Thank the Lord!" he said devoutly. "Why?" she asked in some surprise. "I've never exactly understood why the boys I've been best man for were so miserable over the prospect of a show wedding--but I know now. A runaway marriage appeals to me now as it never did before. I want to be married--tremendously--but I want to get it over." A soft laugh answered him. "We'll get it over." Anthony sat up suddenly. "Will we?" he asked with eagerness. "When?" "I didn't say 'when'!" "Juliet--when are you going to say it?" "Why, Tony--dear----" "That's right--put in the 'dear,'" he murmured. "I've heard mighty few of 'em yet, and they sound great to me----" "We've been engaged only two weeks--" "And two days----" "And the little house isn't spoiling, even though you're not sure about the tea-kettle and the awning. I--you don't want to hurry things----" "Don't I!"--rebelliously. "If I'm very good and say 'Christmas'----" "'Christmas!'--Great Caesar!" "But, Tony----" "Now see here--" he leaned forward and stared up at her, without touching her--he was as yet allowed few of the lover's favours and prized them the more for that--"do you think our case is just like other people's? Here I've been waiting for you all my days--waiting and waiting, and tortured all the time by suspense. Then I lived that month of July with my heart in my mouth--you'll never know what you put me through those days, talking and jollying about 'Eleanor Langham,' and never for one instant, until just that last day, giving me the smallest pinch of hope that it was anything to you except just what it pretended to be. Then--I've been a long time without a home--and the little house--sweetheart--it looks like Heaven to me. Must I stay outside till Christmas--when everything's all ready? Confound it--I don't want to play the pathetic string, and the Lord knows I'm happy as a fellow can be who's got the desire of his life. But----" A warm hand came gently upon his hair, and for joy at the touch he fell silent. Once he turned his head and put his lips against the white sleeve as it fell near, and looked up an instant with eyes whose expression the person above him felt rather than saw through the subdued light. By and by she took up the conversation. "So you are rejoiced that I don't want a great wedding?" "Immensely relieved." "What would you like best?" "I don't dare tell you." "You may." "Tell me what you would like, Julie." "Of course father would say the town house, even if it were a small affair. Auntie Dingley would probably agree to having it here--if that were what you--we--wanted--that is----" Anthony looked up quickly. "Even at Christmas?" "Why--yes. We could come back. People do that sometimes." "Yes. Must we do what other people do?" "Would you rather not?"