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severe beauty of the words; and Dee Fentriss was Mrs. T. Jameson James. Returned to her father’s house for the post-ceremonial festivities, Dee admitted Pat to her room where the last

packing was going on, and was caught in a swift, hard hug. “Oh, Dee! You looked lovely.” “Did I?” said the bride indifferently. “You surely did. Where are you going on your trip?” “Secret. Washington first, if you want to know.” Pat lowered her voice though there was no one else in the room.

“Dee, aren’t you scared?”

“Of course not. “Vd be.

Don’t be an idiot!”

No; I don’t know as I would either, if I was

crazy about the man.” Pat, thinking aloud, did not see her sister wince. “I’d be too curious about—about what came

next.

You’ll

tell me,

won’t

you,

Dee?

Every-

thing?” The bride laughed not over-mirthfully. “Wait till you’re older, Infant. Though I believe that’s what they always say and I don’t know why they should. Had a good time?” “The most priceless time!” “That’s right. I wish I could always be at the top of the heap, as you are.” “Sometimes I’m at the bottom. IT’ll have a poisonous grouch after this.” ‘Will you? You’re a queer kid. By the way, do you know that Mark Denby is quite nuts over you?” Denby was best man, an attractive but not highly intelligent Baltimorean. Pat shrugged her shoulders affectedly to hide her satisfaction. ‘“He’s all right in his way.” “Be nice to him to-night, will you? You haven’t shown him much.”