The guard had skipped our carriage, but
it was already vibrating in departure--creaking--moving. I looked at
Arthur in a manner--I confess it--which annihilated our two months of
separation.
"Then since you're not going to marry Dod," he inquired breathlessly,
walking along with the train--"I've heard various reports--whom, may I
ask, _are_ you going to marry?"
"Why, nobody," I said, "unless----"
"Well, I should think so!" ejaculated Arthur, and in spite of the
frightful German language used by the guard, he jumped into the
carriage.
He has maintained ever since that he was obliged to do it in order to
explain his presence on the platform, which was, of course, carrying the
matter to its logical conclusion. It seemed that the Senator had advised
him to come over and meet us accidentally in Venice, where he had
intimated that reunion would be only a question of privacy and a full
moon. On his arrival at Venice--it was _his_ gondola that we shared--the
Senator had discouraged him for the moment, and had since constantly
telegraphed him that the opportune moment had not yet arrived.
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