to marry he would have come to me at the eleventh hour
with the same bewildered demand for advice.

In that moment I decided to trust to Elizabeth. She seems to have a
rude knowledge of life which is almost uncanny at times, but entirely
convincing. She has, as it were, a way of going to the heart of things
and straightway extracting truth. I felt just then that I could depend
on her judgment.

'William,' I said, looking at him steadily in the eye, 'you want my
candid opinion?'

'I do,' he replied fervently.

'Then I advise you to go on with the marriage. I have weighed it all
up, and I feel it is for the best.'

He wrung my hand silently, and then he rose. 'Thank you,' he said, 'I
am sure you are always right.' I thought I detected a note of relief
in his voice. Man is a perplexing creature.

The next day Marion came to me overjoyed. 'It's all right, dear,' she
announced. 'William wants to get married at once. Netta, you are
wonderful--how did you do it? What did you say to him?'

'Never mind,' I said, trying to look enigmatical and rather enjoying
Marion's respectful admiration of my wondrous powers, 'all's well that
ends well . . . ask Elizabeth if it isn't,' I added as that worthy
lurched in with the tea-tray.

'The wedding isn't going to be postponed after all, Elizabeth,'
announced Marion gleefully.

'I knowed it wouldn't be, Miss Marryun, when I see a weddin' wreath in
your cup. I tell you the Signs is always right.'

Marion shook her head. 'Not always. Didn't you once tell me that my
future husband would cross water to meet me? Mr. Rawlings, now, has
been here all the time.'

Elizabeth paused in the act of arranging the tea-table, and stood in a
prophetic attitude with the teapot held aloft.

'Oo ses the Signs is wrong?' she demanded. 'Isn't Mr. Roarings an
Irishman, an' was born in Dubling? Now I'd like to know 'ow any one
can get from Ireland to London without crossin' water, anyway!'

[Illustration: 'Oo ses the Signs is wrong?']

Marion bowed her head, meekly acquiescent. 'I never thought of that,
Elizabeth. You always seem to be right.'

CHAPTER XX

I had not seen Marion and William since their marriage as they had gone
on a six-months' tour of the Italian lakes, but I was haunted with the
foreboding that the match was not, after all, turning out a success.

For one thing, Marion's silence regarding her marriage was unusual.
She wrote only brief notes that made