My nerves must be a shade off color to-night. I could have sworn a moment ago, as the room grew chilly, that my sister Laura was standing before me. It is my guilty conscience, I suppose. Too late to call her now. Besides, the telephone is no doubt still "out of order." Poor Laura! I saw her, white as death, with tears running down her drawn cheeks. What things are human nerves when a bit unstrung! I shall go and see Laura to-morrow. I have had my conversation with Griselda and it came off not amiss. "Griselda," I began carelessly, after Dibdin had gone, "did I mention to you that I am to be married in three weeks?" Griselda is not one to waste breath in futile and flamboyant feminine exclamations. She turned somewhat pale, I thought. "You know very well you did not," she answered in level tones, polishing a spoon the while. "Well, I meant to," I told her truthfully enough. "Didn’t you expect it?" "No, sir," was her blunt reply. "Neither did I," I blurted out before I knew it. A wry, unaccustomed smile for a moment illumined her dark, gypsy-like features. "You needn’t tell me that," she retorted, and I wonder what she meant by it. It is not like her to waste words. "Am I," she continued, "to take this as notice to find a new place?" "God forbid!" I cried in horror. "Whatever happens, Griselda, you remain with me—let that be understood." "And suppose Miss Bayard shouldn’t want me?" she demanded with quiet intensity. "Then she will probably not want me," I told her. "That question won’t arise. Besides, Griselda," I went on, "we haven’t decided yet how we are going to manage. Miss Bayard will probably want to keep her apartment and I mine. She would hardly wish to be bothered with me all the time." "And you would call that marriage!" exclaimed Griselda aghast. "Why not?" I queried mildly. "I don’t know much about it, Griselda, but marriage is determined by the kind of license you get at the City Hall and what the alderman says to you. The leases of apartments have nothing to do with it, I’m quite sure—though I might inquire." Griselda’s face was blank for a moment. Then on a sudden she was bent double in a gale of wild, hysterical laughter. Never have I known her so shaken by meaningless cachinnation. Perhaps her own nerves are no better than mine. Even now I still hear her rattling deeply from time to time like muffled thunder. But I don’t care now. What a relief to get it over! It is nearly bedtime. Casting over the events of the day, I cannot but conclude that my own will has played too small a part in the whole matter.