[Illustration: "Let us be married in the Lion's Cage."]
"Then, Theodore," she said, pressing my arm impulsively with her slim fingers, while the rays of a street lamp in the square fell on her upturned face and shining eyes, "let us be married at the Agricultural Hall--in the Lions' Cage!"
I confess to being considerably startled. I had expected something rather out of the common, but nothing in the least like this.
"In the lions' cage!" I repeated, blankly. "Wouldn't that be rather _smelly_, Lurana? And, besides, the menagerie people would never lend it for such a purpose. Where would they put the lions, you know?"
"Why, the lions would be _there_, of course," she said, "or else there'd be nothing in it."
"If I am to be married in a lion-cage," I said, with a very feeble attempt at levity, "I should very much prefer that there _was_ nothing in it."
"Ah, you may laugh, Theodore!" she said, "but, after all your professions, surely you won't refuse the very first indulgence I ask! You may think it a mere whim, a girlish caprice; but understand this--I am thoroughly in earnest about it. If you are willing to marry me as I wish, the wedding may be as soon as ever you please. But if not, tell me so plainly, and let us part for ever. Either I will be married in my own way, or not at all."
What could I do? It was simply impossible to give her up now, the very moment after she was won. And to lose her for such a mere punctilio; for, of course, this condition of hers was too fantastic to be practicable; the Professor would certainly refuse his consent to so eccentric a ceremony; Lurana herself would probably realise before long the absurdity of the idea. In the meantime, as her acknowledged _fiancé_, I should have the immense advantage of being on the spot when she returned to a more reasonable frame of mind.
So I gave way, and assured her that I had no personal objection to lions, and would as soon be married in their presence as elsewhere, provided that we could obtain the necessary permission; and even if I had thought this more probable than I did, I believe--so potent was the witchery of Lurana's voice and eyes--I should have said precisely the same.
"Dearest Theodore!" she murmured, "I never really doubted you. I felt so sure that you would be nice and sympathetic about it. If we couldn't agree about such a trifling thing as where we are to be married, we _should_ be unsuited to one another, shouldn't we? Now we will just walk round the square once more, and then go in and tell the others what we have arranged."