confusedly, he did not mean to tell her the truth at all; anything else but that.
"Oh, sir, tell me the worst; what has happened?" and she leaned lovingly over the unconscious man; she looked so earnest in her grief—so unsuspecting—that Marrion was convinced that this was the first "full" of the honeymoon. "I will help him out of this," he said to himself.
"Robert had a terrific headache at the club, and we gave him chloral—he took a trifle too much—that is all—he will be quite himself by morning."
"Oh! sir, are you sure it is not fatal?" Cherokee asked, anxiously, "absolutely sure? But how could anyone be so careless," she remonstrated.
"I do not wonder that you ask, since it was Marrion Latham who was so thoughtless."
"Marrion Latham! my husband's dearest friend."
"I am what is left of him," he answered, laughingly.
She extended her hand, cordially:
"I am glad to meet you, for Robert loves you very dearly, and came near putting off the wedding until your home-coming."
"I am very sorry to have missed it. Have I come too late to offer congratulations?"
"No, indeed, every sunset but closes another wedding day with us," and she kissed the flushed
