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she had put on was small and did not interfere. It seemed the hand of Providence.
The policeman ambled by, still smiling. “She’s a pretty little thing,” he said softly. “Good luck to the both of you!” And he went on his way, whistling Annie Laurie.
Day came. The square filled with sunshine. Busy workers hurried by—not one of them too busy for a curious glance toward our bench. Across the way, before my hotel, the carriage starter took up his position. He was fresh and gorgeous as the morning. The voices of newsboys became more insistent. I leaned over and kissed Mary Will’s warm lips.
“Wake up,” I told her. “It’s your wedding-day.”
THE END
