et! But this
wedding had gone off so particularly well--"quite like a durbar" in the
opinion of Lady Edser, and she thoroughly agreed with her.

So the wasted day lumbered forward, the bride and bridegroom drove off,
yelling with laughter, and for the second time the sun retreated towards
the hills of Wales. Henry, who was more tired than he owned, came up to
her in the castle meadow, and, in tones of unusual softness, said that
he was pleased. Everything had gone off so well. She felt that he was
praising her, too, and blushed; certainly she had done all she could
with his intractable friends, and had made a special point of kotowing
to the men. They were breaking camp this evening; only the Warringtons
and quiet child would stay the night, and the others were already moving
towards the house to finish their packing. "I think it did go off
well," she agreed. "Since I had to jump out of the motor, I'm thankful I
lighted on my left hand. I am so very glad about it, Henry dear; I only
hope that the guests at ours may be half as comfortable. You must all
remember that we have no practical person among us, except my aunt, and
she is not used to entertainments on a large scale."

"I know," he said gravely. "Under the circumstances, it would be better
to put everything into the hands of Harrods or Whiteley's, or even to go
to some hotel."

"You desire a hotel?"

"Yes, because--well, I mustn't interfere with you. No doubt you want to
be married from your old home."

"My old home's falling into pieces, Henry. I only want my new. Isn't it
a perfect evening--"

"The Alexandrina isn't bad--"

"The Alexandrina," she echoed, more occupied with the threads of smoke
that were issuing from their chimneys, and ruling the sunlit slopes with
parallels of grey.

"It's off Curzon Street."

"Is it? Let's be married from off Curzon Street."

Then she turned westward, to gaze at the swirling gold. Just where the
river rounded the hill the sun caught it. Fairyland must lie above the
bend, and its precious liquid was pouring towards them past Charles's
bathing-shed. She gazed so long that her eyes were dazzled, and when
they moved back to the house, she could not recognise the faces of
people who were coming out of it. A parlour-maid was preceding them.

"Who are those people?" she asked.

"They're callers!" exclaimed Henry. "It's too late for callers."

"Perhaps they're town people who want to see the wedding presents."

"I'm