Theresa had studied up the customs at fashionable English and French weddings, and had combined the most aristocratic features of both.

Perhaps the most successful feature was when she and Ross, dressed for the going away, walked, she leaning upon his arm, across the lawns to the silk marquee where the wedding breakfast was served.

Before them, walking backward, were a dozen little girls from the village school, all in white, strewing roses from beribboned baskets, and singing, "Behold! The bride in beauty comes!" "Well, I'm glad it's all over," said Theresa as she settled back in a chair in the private car that was to take them to Wilderness Lodge, in northern Wisconsin for the honeymoon.
"So am I," Ross disappointed her by saying.

"I've felt like a damn fool ever since I began to face that gaping gang." "But you must admit it was beautiful," objected Theresa pouting.
Ross shut his teeth together to keep back a rude reply.

He was understanding how men can be brutal to women.