The Strange Proposal Read Free Page B

him. He ought to tell her that he was a poor man. That it would be some time before he could claim her. He ought to let her know about his one year more of graduate work in medical school. She ought to know that his wedding could never be the grand affair that this was. He was not a Wainwright. There were things he ought to say to arrange what they should do in the future, but to save his life he could not say them, could not put them into the words that ought to frame them. Not with all these good, kindly people around them, shouting pleasant nothings across the table, mixing together for that one night, strangers, but with a common interest in the bride and groom. His tongue was tied! And perhaps there would be no other time!
    “And I don’t even know your address,” he wailed, as suddenly the bride arose and everybody got up with her.
    “I’ll write it for you and give it to you before you leave,” she assured him with a smile. “Where is my little bag? I have a pencil and card in it.”
    He handed it forth reluctantly. It seemed he was giving up one of the slender links that bound them.
    “I’ll have it ready for you when you come down.” Her smile was bright. “You have to go upstairs with Jeff, don’t you? Well, I’ll be waiting over there by the alcove, and—you know
I’m
driving you to the station afterward, so don’t go and order a taxi or anything. That’s the business of the maid of honor after her duties for the bride are done. She has to look after the best man, you know. That is, when he needs looking after.”
    She slipped away up the stairs with one of her sparking glances, and looking after her he had to own to himself that he actually wasn’t sure yet whether she was only playing a game with him or had taken his words seriously. Nevertheless, he went to Jeff’s room with something singing down in his heart.
    So while the guests were waiting below to play the usual bridal tricks on the departing couple, with a sentinel stationed at every hotel exit, Camilla, with the help of her mother and Miss York, their friend, got out of her bridal array and into the lovely, simple going-away outfit. She calmly kissed the women good-bye, including Mary Elizabeth, who had slipped in a minute before and now stood holding the precious orchids.
    “But what are you going to do with your bouquet, Camilla?” she asked. “You can’t go away without the time-honored ceremony of throwing your flowers for the bridesmaids to catch.”
    “You’ll have to do it for me, new cousin,” said Camilla, smiling. “Or perhaps you’ll prefer to keep them yourself. If they bring any good luck, I’d rather you’d have them, Mary Elizabeth, dear! I’m going to love you a lot.”
    Then Camilla put on a stiff, white, starched nurse’s smock and a tricky little cap, tucking her own soft hat under the big blue nurse’s cape. She stepped to a door connecting with another suite of rooms, unlocked it, and stood a moment looking at them all with happy eyes.
    “Good night!” she said, sweeping them a courtesy.
    “But, Camilla, where are your bags?” said Mary Elizabeth.
    “Safe in our car and waiting for us in a little village three miles from town. Jeff saw to all that. Good-bye, and it’s up to you, Mary Elizabeth, to go down and announce that I’ve fled and you’ve found nothing but my bouquet, and therefore it’s yours, because you found it first.”
    And with another smile and a kiss blown at them all, she turned and went into the other room, closing the door behind her. Nurse York swiftly locked it after her, and the three conspirators hurried downstairs by devious ways, looking most innocent.
    No one noticed a nurse with a tray of dishes slip out of the end room and hurry down the servants’ stairs.
    Down at the back of the building, the caterer’s car was drawn up for hampers of silver and dishes to be stowed away, and two young men in chef’s linen coats and aprons stole through the basement kitchens