"I am not taking the black veil, am I?" asked the girl hotly.

"Only the wedding veil, dear. But after all your husband ought to have
something to suggest concerning a common visiting list--"

"He may suggest--certainly. In the meantime I shall be loyal to my own
friends--and afterward, too," she murmured to herself, as her hostess
rose, calmly dropping care like a mantle from her shoulders.

"Go and be good to this poor young man then; I adore rows--and you'll
have a few on your hands I'll warrant. Let me remind you that your uncle
can make it unpleasant for you yet, and that your amiable fiance has a
will of his own under his pompadour and silky beard."

"What a pity to have it clash with mine," said the girl serenely.

Mrs. Ferrall looked at her: "Mercy on us! Howard's pompadour would stick
up straight with horror if he could hear you! Don't be silly; don't for
an impulse, for a caprice, break off anything desirable on account of a
man for whom you really care nothing--whose amiable exterior and
prospective misfortune merely enlist a very natural and generous
sympathy in you."

"Do you suppose that I shall endure interference from anybody?--from my
uncle, from Howard?"

"Dear, you are making a mountain out of a mole-hill. Don't be emotional;
don't let loose impulses that you and I know about, knew about in our
school years, know all about now, and which you and I have decided must