"Oh, always to me. The fact that I am going to be married does not
prevent my still being myself."

"Unfortunately not," she returned, with a faint suspicion of sarcasm in
her tone. "You pique yourself upon being somber."

"I dare say," answered he, a trifle petulantly. "Pain has become a
habit with me; discontent is about the only luxury I can afford, heaven
knows!"

"Unless it is gorgeous cravats."

"Oh, that," Fenton said, putting his hand to the blue and gold tie at
his throat. "I'm trying to furbish up my old body and decrepit heart
against my nuptials, so I invested fifty cents in this tie."

"You couldn't have done it cheaper," remarked she; "though, perhaps,"
she added dryly, "it is all the rejuvenation is worth."

Fenton smiled grimly and again applied himself to the examination of
the drawings, while the other looked out at the rain.

"Boston has more climate, and that far worse," she remarked, "than any
other known locality."

"Does that mean that you are going to Herman's this afternoon?" asked
Fenton.

"I should have gone this morning if you had not insisted upon my