THE AMERICAN
"Forms and ceremonies are what I mean of course."
"Ah, but I don't want not to take account of them," he declared. "Haven't I as good a right as another? They don't scare me, and you need n't give me leave to ignore them. I want to know all about 'em."
"That's not what I mean. I mean that you're to deal with them in your own way. Settle delicate questions by your own light. Cut the knot or untie it, as you choose."
"Oh, if there's ever a big knot," he returned—"and they all seem knots of ribbon over here—I shall simply pull it off and wear it!"
The next time he dined in the Avenue d'Iéna was a Sunday, a day on which Mr. Tristram left the cards unshuffled, so that there was a trio in the evening on the balcony. The talk was of many things, and at last Mrs. Tristram suddenly observed to their visitor that it was high time that he should take a wife.
"Listen to her: she has the toupet! said Tristram, who on Sunday evenings was always a little peevish.
"I don't suppose you've made up your mind not to marry?" Mrs. Tristram continued.
"Heaven forbid!" cried Newman. "I'm quite viciously bent on it."
"It's a very easy mistake," said Tristram; "and when it's made it's made."
"Well then," his wife went on, "I suppose you don't mean to wait till you're fifty."
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