glad to have me come to them. But at every open door there is also a
finger pointing inevitably back to Uncle Peter's house. And there I
shall never, never go. So far as your lot is concerned--it is mine. For
better or for worse John, dear. But I trust you, and believe in you, and
think perhaps there is a high destiny for you. I want to share in that,
too, if you will let me, please. And I can't do so fully unless we go,
hand in hand, all the way, together. I am not dismayed by the thought of
doing without a great many unnecessary things. And the really vital
things I hope to have more of than ever--with you. And so, John, if you
don't mind, please, we will eat our lunch like sensible young people,
and afterward--and afterward--Now, John, I simply cannot say that. You
must say that, you know. I haven't left much of it for you to say, but
that little I insist upon your saying for yourself."

Ah! Valentine Germain! pretty, dead Valentine Germain! your daughter is
wonderfully like you now.

John looked steadily into her trustful eyes; a long, long look.

"Then I ask you to marry me this afternoon my dearest," he said
solemnly. "And--oh! Phyllis, I pray God you may never reproach me."

"I never shall, John," she answered. "For I honestly believe I am to be
the happiest and the proudest girl in England."

"Wich of you gets the chocolate, and wich the tea?" asked the waitress.

They were married before three; it was amazing how short, how simple, so
marvelous an event could be. John spent ten minutes at the telephone. A
quarter of an hour was passed in the coldly official precincts of
Doctors' Commons. In the Faculty Office, through an open doorway,
Phyllis caught glimpses of the formalities incident to securing a
license. A clerk filled up a printed form; John made affidavit to the
clerk's accuracy of transcription; a stamp was affixed; a document was
blotted, examined; the dotting of an _i_ was attended to, and the dot
blotted; a bank-note changed hands. The license in his pocket, John
rejoined her.

"We must hurry now, darling," said he.

"Oh, dear!" said Phyllis. "I am glad to hurry away from here. That
clerk's face was so unsympathetic."

Half an hour after they entered the dark, quiet church, the clergyman,
with a cold in his head, had pronounced them "bad ad wife."

They were on top of a motor-bus, jolting cityward, and John was gayly
addressing her as Mrs. Landless, before Phyllis realized that it was
rea