The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1931-03-17
CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER TWELVE
IT was Anne Trowbridge who ex-
i claimed, Heavens, jim! Aren't
YOU going to kiss the bride?" Anne
had relented in her disapproval suf-
ficiently to come with Phil TO see
the couple married.
James Wallace bent his head and
dutifully saluted Gypsy's cheek. She
heard the magistrate saying some
thing in his hoarse voice about
wishing them long and happy
life"
Phil was talking-apparently what
he said was a joke, because the 9TH
ers smiled
Gypsy looked about her and the
others seemed figures in a dream.
This could not be really she, Gypsy
Mcbride. beside the tall young man
with blue eyes who was holding her
arm.
Another moment and she would
wake and know she had imagined
the whole thing. On the second
finger of Gypsy's left hand cleaned
a circlet Of diamonds. They were
very bright They caught fire from
the sunlight and shot it back in
dazzling radiance.
The diamonds we're real. She had
not imagined them. Then she knew
she had not imagined any Of it. It
was all true. James Wallace was
her husband.
There was no time for q we'd
ding breakfast. Wallace was anx-
lous to make the IL o'clock train
He had the tickets in his pocket.
They went out Of the building to
where Trowbridge's car was wait
ing.
Phil glanced at his watch.
Plenty of time" he assured
them. Wen make it and have
fifteen minutes to spare"
The car was a sleek dark blue
coupe. Gypsy and Anne climbed
inside. Wallace was muttering
about "confound traffic" as he
followed them.
He had experienced one unfor-
tunate tieup in New York streets
and never forgotten it.
Darling, you're looking pale"
Anne said to Gypsy as they start
cd. Didn't you sleep well?"
Gypsy smiled. She did look
tired. I'm all right" she said.
After l got home last night 1
packed. And l was I'D at 7 this
morning"
Never mind" Anne treasured
her. Brides are supposed to be
pale anyhow, remember at my
wedding"
She chatted on, but Gypsy was
not listening. Whenever she heard
that word bride" she wanted to
turn and look for another person.
1t seemed impossible that she was
the one referred to.
YOUNG Mrs. Trowbridge had
4 done her best to give the hasty
marriage conventional touches.
She had seen to it that there were
flowers for Gypsy-bought by
Wallace at corner florists shop
just before the ceremony.
There was cluster of gardenias
pinned to the lapel of Gypsy's suit
coat. White flowers, sweet and fra
grant, for a bride.
In one old and bulky suit case
slowed away in the rear of the
car were all of Gypsy's belong
ings. The suit case was not
crowded. Half a dozen dresses
comprised the girls wardrobe.
The other things had been so
worn she was ashamed to pack
them. The old tweed coat, an in
suit to any trousseau, she had
given to Mrs. O'Hare, to be handed
down to her niece
Besides the dresses, the suit case
contained the few things Gypsy
had saved when she disposed of the
household possessions after her
fathers death. A clock that had
belonged to her mother. A small,
old-fashioned photograph album
bound in yellow plush, containing
pictures of her grandparents.
Her fathers copies of David Cop
perfield" and "Tristram Shandy.'
Packing these things had seemed
a sacred rite