They stopped for a few minutes at the City Hall and again at the jeweler’s, and then they were in the house of the Reverend Walter Gregory on Sixty-ninth Street, where a sanctimonious gentleman with twinkling eyes and a slight stutter received them cordially and urged them to a breakfast of bacon and eggs before the ceremony.
On the way to the station they stopped only long enough to wire Knowleton’s father, and then they were sitting in their compartment on the Broadway Limited.
“Darn!” exclaimed Myra. “I forgot my bag. Left it at Cousin Walter’s in the excitement.”
“Never mind. We can get a whole new outfit in Chicago.”
She glanced at her wrist watch.
“I’ve got time to telephone him to send it on.”
She rose.
“Don’t be long, dear.”
She leaned down and kissed his forehead.
“You know I couldn’t. Two minutes, honey.”
Outside Myra ran swiftly along the platform and up the steel stairs to the great waiting room, where a man met her—a twinkly-eyed man with a slight stutter.
“How d-did it go, M-myra?”
“Fine! Oh, Walter, you were splendid! I almost wish you’d join the ministry so you could officiate when I do get married.”
“Well—I r-rehearsed for half an hour after I g-got your telephone call.”
“Wish we’d had more time. I’d have had him lease an apartment and buy furniture.”
“H’m,” chuckled Walter. “Wonder how far he’ll go on his honeymoon.”
“Oh, he’ll think I’m on the train till he gets to Elizabeth.” She shook her little fist at the great contour of the marble dome. “Oh, he’s getting off too easy—far too easy!”
“I haven’t f-figured out what the f-fellow did to you, M-myra.”
“You never will, I hope.”
They had reached the side drive and he hailed her a taxicab.
“You’re an angel!” beamed Myra. “And I can’t thank you enough.”
“Well, any time I can be of use t-to you—— By the way, what are you going to do with all the rings?”
Myra looked laughingly at her hand.
“That’s the question,” she said. “I may send them to Lady Helena Something-or-Other—and—well, I’ve always had a strong penchant for souvenirs. Tell the driver ‘Biltmore,’ Walter.”
Notes:
This story was rewritten in St. Paul in December 1919 from an abandoned story called “Lilah Meets His Family.” Submitting story to Harold Ober, Fitzgerald admitted: “I’m afraid its no good and if you agree with me don’t hesitate to send it back. Perhaps if you give me an idea what the matter with it is I’ll be able to rewrite it.” Ober had no trouble selling it to the The Saturday Evening Post for $400 (20 March 1920). Fox studios bought “Myra” in 1920 for $1000 — a good price at that time — and made it into “The Husband Hunter” with Eileen Percy. Its popular appeal did not alter Fitzgerald’s feelings about the story. In 1921 he wrote Ober about English magazine rights: “I believe you have disposed of… Myra Meets His Family which story, however, I never have liked, + do not intend ever republishing in book form.” The reasons for his rejection of the story are not clear. It relies on unlikely plotting, but so do a number of his other commercial stories… The story stakes out the territory of the Eastern rich; and Myra is a readily recognizable Fitzgerald heroine who reappears under a dozen other names in later stories.
