It
seemed like aiding and abetting the enemy, but unless I had another
accident at the last minute, such as falling downstairs, I could see no
way of stopping at home without a row.

What would Eagle want me to do? I asked myself. It was almost as if I
could hear his voice saying, "Don't hurt Diana on such a day by stopping
away from her wedding."

I decided to be there; and it was arranged for me to sit with Kitty
Main, Mrs. Dalziel, and Tony. I didn't mind this, because Tony couldn't
very well propose in church with "The voice that breathed o'er Eden"
resounding to the roof.

The wedding was fixed for two o'clock at St. George's, Hanover Square;
and if any were left in London who didn't know the hour and all other
details, it must have been because they didn't read the halfpenny
papers. It had even been announced that one of the bridegroom's many
magnificent presents to the bride would be a high-powered Grayles-Grice
car, in which Lady Diana Vandyke would drive from the church with her
husband to the house of her father, for the wedding reception, and go on
for the honeymoon tour afterward. This paragraph was truer than some of
the others, but the day before the wedding the car hadn't yet been
delivered by the makers. A frantic telegram from Sidney brought the
assurance that he might count without fail on its arriving by ten
o'clock next day at latest. The firm regretted deeply the unforeseen
delay which had occurred owing to a strike, but the automobile had been
shipped. Still Sidney and Diana were anxious.

Kitty and Mrs. Dalziel and Tony and I started rather late, for Kitty had
superintended the bride's dressing. The other two came for us in a motor
car, but Mrs. Dalziel had to stop for a look at Di. As for me, I'm not
sure how I felt about my sister. She was so lovely in her lace and
silver brocade gown, and her cap-veil, that my eyes clung to her, yet it
was hateful that her beauty should be for Sidney Vandyke. My thoughts
flew to Eagle, wherever he might be--at the other end of the world,
perhaps--and I wondered if he knew what was happening in London.

Our places at church were at the front, in one of the pews reserved for
the bride's relatives and intimate friends, so our being late didn't
matter. But already the back part of the church was full, and the air
heavy with the perfumes women wore, and the fragrance of roses and
lilies which made the decorations. As we went in, a sense of suffocation
gripped