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“Don’t be silly. It’s three o’clock in the morning.”
“And I love you just as I did at three yesterday afternoon. Peculiar, isn’t it? Yes—I rather think I’ll marry you.”
“Not without looking around?”
“I’ll glance the other girls over on our way to the license bureau. If I change my mind I promise to let you know at once. Now how about the hat?”
Mary Will hesitated. The hour was not much of a help to her in her delightful stubbornness.
“I’ll—I’ll have to change my dress too,” she said and ran up-stairs.
In the brief space of half an hour she returned. Though the fog was gone San Francisco was still a hidden city as we walked gingerly down the steep side of Nob Hill. The sidewalk was wet and slippery. It was absolutely necessary to hold hands.
When we came out of an all-night lunch room near Union Square dawn
