fully disappointed. It shows you have no—no proper sense of the finer values in our association, to bring that man along on our honeymoon."
George did not like being accused baldly of a lack of finer perception. Few men do. You may accuse most of them of gross crimes, and they will not resent it half so much.
"And you!" he retorted. "It shows, dear girl, that you have no—no proper appreciation of the delicacies of my business situation, or you wouldn't make such a mountain of it. Do you think I'd do it if it wasn't necessary? Why, Fay," and he flung his club over his shoulder and drew her close to him; "you could make it hard for me by making too much of this. You could—you could spoil our honeymoon."
"Could spoil it? Indeed!" Her voice expressed an infinite scorn. "You have spoiled it already," she accused, and coldly waltzed herself out of his embrace.
Instantly he was conscious of extreme untactfulness. "Fay! Don't say that!" he pleaded contritely, catching her hand, and the girl-wife, with his dark eyes looking so appealingly into hers, could not resist him long. She could not be commonly irritable and quarrelsome—not now—she could not. A slow, amused smile grew upon her face as her sense of proportions was restored.
