"But he did ask me a long time ago, you know, papa," Elma put
in demurely. "And at that time, you remember, you objected to the
match; so of course, as in duty bound, I at once refused him."

"And what did your father say to that, Elma?" Cyril asked, with a
smile, as she narrated the whole circumstances to him some hours
later.

"Oh, he only said, 'But he'll ask you again now, you may be sure,
my child.' And I replied very gravely, I didn't think you would.
And do you know, Cyril, I really don't think you will, either."

"Why not, Elma?"

"Because, you foolish boy, it isn't the least bit in the world
necessary. This has been, all through, a comedy of errors. Tragedy
enough intermixed; but still a comedy of errors. There never was
really any reason on earth why either of us shouldn't have married
the other. And the only thing I now regret myself is that I didn't
do as I first threatened, and marry you outright, just to show
my confidence in you and Guy, at the time when everybody else had
turned most against you."

"Well, suppose we make up for lost time now by saying Wednesday
fortnight," Cyril suggested, after a short pause, during which both
of them simultaneously had been otherwise occupied.

"Oh, Cyril, that's awfully quick! It could hardly be managed.
There's the dresses, and all that! And the bridesmaids to arrange