We
hadn't been on 'em, neither of us. Jennie an' Frank didn't seem ter want
us to. They said they was shaky an' noisy an' would tire us all out. But
yesterday, when the folks was gone, Hezekiah an' me got ter talkin' an'
thinkin' how all these years we hadn't never had that honeymoon trip,
an' how by an' by we'd be old--real old, I mean, so's we couldn't take
it--an' all of a sudden we said we'd take it now, right now. An' we did.
We left a note fer the children, an'--an' we're here!"
There was a long silence. Over at the side-board the waiter still
polished his bottle. Livingstone did not even turn his head. Finally
Harding raised his glass.
"We'll drink to honeymoon trips in general and to this one in
particular," he cried, a little constrainedly.
Mrs. Warden flushed, smiled, and reached for her glass. The pink
lemonade was almost at her lips when Livingstone's arm shot out. Then
came the tinkle of shattered glass and a crimson stain where the wine
trailed across the damask.
"I beg your pardon!" exclaimed Livingstone, while the other men lowered
their glasses in surprise. "That was an awkward slip of mine, Mrs.
Warden. I must have hit your arm."
"But, Bill," muttered Harding under his breath, "you don't mean--"
"But I do," corrected Livingstone quietly, looking straight into
Harding's amazed eyes.
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