This will be on Sunday.

To Sunday, therefore, I look forward with pious haste.
Well, it is Sunday now--the Sunday of my first appearance as a bride at Tempest church.

A bride without her bridegroom! A pang of mortification and pain shoots through me, as this thought traverses my soul.

I look at myself dissatisfiedly in the glass.

Alas! I am no credit to his taste.
If, for this once.