The big handsome fellow drew himself up to his full height, lifted that great chest of his, and laughed.
"There are three separate marriages," he said.

"I won't interfere with yours--nor you with mine." So the great day came, and the countless crowds of women, and we three bridegrooms without any supporting "best men," or any other men to back us up, felt strangely small as we came forward.
Somel and Zava and Moadine were on hand; we were thankful to have them, too--they seemed almost like relatives.
There was a splendid procession, wreathing dances, the new anthem I spoke of, and the whole great place pulsed with feeling--the deep awe, the sweet hope, the wondering expectation of a new miracle.
"There has been nothing like this in the country since our Motherhood began!" Somel said softly to me, while we watched the symbolic marches.
"You see, it is the dawn of a new era.

You don't know how much you mean to us.

It is not only Fatherhood--that marvelous dual parentage to which we are strangers--the miracle of union in life-giving--but it is Brotherhood.

You are the rest of the world.