urtyard, right in the hurly-burly of one of the main arteries of
London. She knew that she would have to say her responses in the
marriage-service. Yet somehow she felt more like another person
looking on from a great distance at the doings of someone else. One
would feel the same remoteness if one was saying to oneself, "At this
very moment Margaret will be getting married, she will be on her way to
the church."

"Here we are," Michael Ireton said abruptly.

The taxi had stopped at the iron gate in the centre of the railings
which guarded the precincts of the church. He jumped out quickly and
Margaret followed him. In the porch of the church they stopped for a
moment, to make sure of the fact that Michael was waiting to receive
Margaret at the chancel steps. Then, still in a dream-state, Margaret
walked up the aisle of the church on Michael Ireton's arm. She was not
nervous; things were too unreal for her to be conscious of being
nervous.

A few idle Londoners, seeing that there was going to be a wedding, had
strayed into the church; otherwise it was empty. Michael thought it
rather dark and solemn.

Margaret was daintily dressed in white, a frock suitable for
travelling. Michael was still in his Tommy's uniform.

Nothing could have been simpler than the service which made them man
and wife, or more unlike what Margaret's aunts would have considered
suitable for their niece. It was a wedding after Michael's and
Margaret's own hearts, a solemn sacrament of two people, not a society
gathering of critical guests.

It was not until Michael took Margaret's hand in his, and pressed it
eagerly and firmly, with an air of happy possession, that Margaret came
to her full consciousness and to the significance of what she was
doing. She had repeated her vows after the clergyman clearly and
correctly; she had even said "I will" because her subconscious mind had
impelled her to say it. The importance of the words had escaped her.
It had been only her material body which stood by her lover's side.

Michael felt her air of aloofness, her distance. Her eyes had not met
his when he had sought them, eager to welcome her. She had walked up
the aisle and taken her place by his side like a spirit-woman, who was
a stranger to him.

When at last his strong hand clasped hers, she looked up. Their eyes
met. A long sigh travelled from Margaret's wakening heart to her lips.
Michael felt her emotion. He held her hand mor