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cautiously to Mary. “You are so intelligent. Learning has always mattered so much to you.”
    “Kit isn’t exactly stupid, mother,” Mary replied patiently. “He has a B.S. in mathematics from Penn State, you know.”
    “Mathematics?” Her mother looked astonished.
    “Yes. He got into acting when he joined a student production at Penn for a lark and he ended up deciding he liked it better than math. But he finished his degree. It took him six years to do it, because he had to work, but he finished. He does finish what he starts, and he is a very good actor. He’ll make it.”
    “Suppose he does, darling.” Her mother’s voice was troubled. “Will you like that sort of life? The publicity is ghastly. And I’m sure most of those people in Hollywood take drugs. And the divorce rate . ..”
    “I know all that. Mother, and believe me I’vethought about it.” Mary smiled a little ruefully. “But I love him. What else can I do?”
    Her mother’s face relaxed a little. “Your father seems to like him,” she said hopefully.
    Mary grinned. “You know. Mother,I’ve decided the worst thing you can do is to decide on the sort of man you don’t want to marry and the sort of life you don’t want to lead. The minute you do that, God looks down on your smug little plans and says, ‘Ah-ha, I’ll fix her.’ And he did just that. He sent me Kit.”
    “He is—rather awesome.” For the first time there was the hint of laughter in her mother’s voice.
    “I don’t know what he is. I only know that there he is and I’ve got to be with him.”
    “Well, then, darling,” said her mother briskly, “shall we plan for a wedding in June?”
    Kit was rather startled to find that his nuptials were to be celebrated with as much pomp as Mrs. O’Connor clearly envisioned. But it wasn’t the trimmings he objected to so much as the delay.
    “June!” He groaned. “Are you going to make me wait until June?”
    Mary’s eyes always seemed to get at least two shades bluer whenever she looked at him. “Yes, I’m afraid I am.”
    “But what does it matter, since we’re going to be married anyway.” His voice had dropped to the husky note that always made her heart begin to race, “What difference can a wedding ring make?” he coaxed.
    “It isn’t the ring. It’s the sacrament,” she said patiently. “Oh, Kit, I’ve explained and explained...”
    “I know.” He had glowered at her dauntingly. “I can’t think clearly anymore. And it’s all your fault.”
    She had bit her lip and then giggled. “Darling, you look so funny . . .” And he had stalked off in high dudgeon.
    They were married the week after graduation in the church where Mary had been baptized, and there had been a reception for two hundred people on the lawn of the O’Connor family home. They were to go to Cape Cod for their honeymoon, but after they left the reception Kit got on the highway going west rather than east.
    “Hey,” said Mary in a startled voice. “You’re going the wrong way.”
    “No, I’m not,” he replied calmly. “We’re going to spend tonight in our own apartment.We can leave for the cape tomorrow.”
    “Good heavens, why did you decide to do that? We’re all booked into the cottage in Chatham.”
    He gave her a sidelong glance that emphasized the remarkable length of his lashes. “I have no intention of driving five hours on my wedding day,” he said. “I’m saving my strength for other things.”
    It took a minute for his words to register, but when they did she felt a strange shiver deep inside her. “Ah,” she got out, she hoped calmly, “I see.”
    Their apartment consisted of a bedroom, living room, and eat-in kitchen. It was sparsely furnished, mostly from the O’Connor-family attic. The bedroom, however, did boast a double bed with a beautiful maple headboard, and it was to this room that Kit steered her as soon as they were in the door. He put their suitcases down with a thump and went to pull down