The bride and groom leave the reception after the cake is cut, with only farewells to their parents. Still in tux and gown, they stop in the church school’s playground, amuse a few children with their antics on the seesaw, then waltz the sidewalk to a working man’s bar. The looks they draw from strangers in smudges and coveralls are strained, bemused at first, but when an hour flies they have an entourage to lead to a jazz club for dancing and brandy. It’s almost sunrise when they fall in bed, fall quickly asleep in each others arms. They won’t make love until evening, the sole detail they’ll obscure years later when telling their children of the day they wed.