Marian felt the force of his words, and was also compelled to recognize his delicate regard for the feelings of one in humble station.  She would have permitted him to depart, but Mr. Vosburgh interposed quickly:  “Wait a moment, Mr. Merwyn; I picked up a rare book, down town, relating to the topic we were discussing the other evening.  Suppose you go up to my library.  I’ll join you there, for the ceremony will soon be over.  Indeed, we are now expecting the groom, his best man, and the minister.  It so happens that the happy pair are Protestants, and so we can have an informal wedding.”

“Oh, stay, Merwyn,” said Strahan.  “It was I who brought you here, and I shouldn’t feel that the evening was complete without you.”

The former looked doubtfully at Marian, who added, quickly:  “You cannot refuse papa’s invitation, Mr. Merwyn, since it removes the only scruple you can have.  It is, perhaps, natural that the bride should wish to see only familiar faces at this time, and it was thoughtful of you to remember this, but, as papa says, the affair will soon be over.”

“And then,” resumed Strahan, “I have a little pie to show you, Miss Marian, in which Merwyn had a big finger.”

“I thought that was an affair between ourselves,” said Merwyn, throwing off his overcoat.

“Oh, do not for the world reveal any of Mr. Merwyn’s secrets!” cried the girl.

“It is no secret at all to you, Miss Marian, nor did I ever intend that it should be one,” Strahan explained.

“Mr. Merwyn, you labor under a disadvantage in your relations with Mr. Strahan.  He has friends, and friendship is not based on reticence.”

“Therefore I can have no friends, is the inference, I suppose.”

“That cannot be said while I live,” began the young officer, warmly; but here a ring at the door produced instant dispersion.  “I suppose I can be present,” Strahan whispered to Marian.  “Barney Ghegan is an older acquaintance of mine than of yours, and your pretty waitress has condescended to smile graciously on me more than once, although my frequent presence at your door must have taxed her patience.”

“You have crossed her palm with too much silver, I fear, to make frowns possible.  Silver, indeed! when has any been seen?  But money in any form is said to buy woman’s smiles.”

“Thank Heaven it doesn’t buy yours.”

“Hush!  Your gravity must now be portentous.”

The aggressive Barney, now a burly policeman, had again brought pretty Sally Maguire to terms, and on this evening received the reward of his persistent wooing.  After the ceremony and a substantial supper, which Mrs. Vosburgh graced with her silver, the couple took their brief wedding journey to their rooms, and Barney went on duty in the morning, looking as if all the world were to his mind.

When Mr. Vosburgh went up to his library his step was at first unnoted, and he saw his guest sitting before the fire, lost in a gloomy revery.  When observed, he asked, a little abruptly:  “Is the matter to which Mr. Strahan referred a secret which you wish kept?”