"On the whole, then," said his bride, "you ought to be reconciled for the loss of your twilight reflections." "When I look into your eyes I am repaid for everything! There!" he turned to Helen, "could any one have said a perfect thing more perfectly?" And Miss Maitland agreed that, although his grammar might have been criticized, his sentiment and delivery were flawless. "Well, it's over now, so I'm glad you accept it gracefully," she said. "You're committed, temporarily at least--unless you wish to start for Nevada at once." "Really, Helen, I think it's most indelicate of you to refer to such a possibility," the other girl remarked. "I've only been married fifteen minutes, and to be deserted by one's husband even within a week or two is not considered flattering." "No, I think I'll stay," Wilkinson replied. "But if I were to start West at all, I should say the sooner the better to avert the wrath of your esteemed but irascible parent." "I think father has said all he has to say; he expressed himself most thoroughly," Isabel rejoined thoughtfully. "I should say he did!" her husband agreed. "With elaborate precision, if I may so express it. He told me enough about my family and antecedents to make me wholly ashamed to belong to them. His presentation of myself was simply masterful; it would have moved one of his own trolley cars; I didn't wonder a bit that he objected to me as a son-in-law. In fact, I told him that had I known all these things I should have sought a fitting helpmate from the State Reformatory, but that I could not withdraw--my word was pledged." "What did he say to that?" Helen asked, with amusement. "He intimated that, as I seemed susceptible to reason, perhaps his daughter also might be. But I assured him that he failed to calculate correctly my undeniable personal charm--that I was an acquired taste, but one for which there was no cure." "An odd one, but mine own?" suggested Isabel. "That was not quite the idea I intended to convey, but I am bound to admit it was just about the way it seemed to strike your respected parent. That is, he said, 'I suppose if she's been idiotic enough to decide to marry you, it would be impossible to bring her to her senses now.' I cordially assented." "Do you know, I believe I really _am_ married," Isabel said reflectively; "for I certainly object most decidedly to my father's way of talking to you. Heavens! If I have to go through life resenting the things people say of my husband, I shall certainly lead a checkered career." "It is the common lot of wives," remarked her husband philosophically. "But here we are, hard by the gilded food bazaar wherein a head waiter with drawn butterknife guards a table for three, reserved in my name. We are about fifteen minutes early, but personally I could look with resignation on the idea of nourishment."