not believe that we were to domesticate ourselves on our wedding day.
"You-are joking, Arthur," I said weakly.
"I don't see why," shuffling uneasily on his chair. "I think traveling is an abomination, and, really, you know, honeymoons are not fashionable. Are you—are you" (very anxiously) "very desirous of going out of town?"
"I don't care particularly," I said with magnanimity. "I took it for granted that we should make a trip. I would have preferred it; but, of course, if you would sooner not—"
"What is that, Elsie?"
Enter my maternal parent at an inopportune moment, as usual. She saw we were engaged in discussion and I felt she was anxious to assist us.
"Arthur does not want to take a wedding trip, mother," I said, "and I was telling him that I had been reckoning upon one."
"It is out of fashion, Mrs. Bouverie," remarked Mr. Ravener, looking with appealing eyes at the arbitrator. "I am sure you will agree with me that it is. No one is better
