eturn. Vague visions of the
future; memories--hastily slurred over; odd, rather frightened musings
on the morrow's ceremony, when Penny would bind herself to Ralph ". . .
_in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation_."

Rather curiously Nan reflected that she had never actually read the
Marriage Service--only caught chance phrases here and there in the
course of other people's marriages. She switched on the light and
hunted about for a book of Common Prayer, turning the pages with quick,
nervous fingers till she came to the one headed: _The Solemnization of
Matrimony_. She began to read.

"_I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day
of judgment when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed . . ._"

How tremendously solemn and searching it sounded! She never remembered
being struck with the awfulness of matrimony when she had so
light-heartedly attended the weddings of her girl friends. Her
principal recollection was of small, white-surpliced choir-boys shrilly
singing "The Voice that breathed o'er Eden," and then, for a brief
space, of a confused murmur of responsive voices, the clergyman and the
bride and bridegroom dividing the honours fairly evenly between them,
while the congregation rustled their wedding garments as they craned
forward in their efforts to obtain a good view of the bride.

Followed the withdrawal into the vestry for the signing of the
register, when everybody seemed to be kissing everybody else with
considerable lack of discrimination. Finally, to the inspiriting
strains of Mendelssohn--who evidently saw nothing sad or sorrowful in a
wedding, but only joy and triumph and the completing of life--the whole
company, bride and bridegroom, relatives and guests, trooped down the
aisle and dwindled away in cars and carriages, to meet once more, like
an incoming tide, at the house of the bride's parents.

But this! . . . This solemn "_I charge ye both . . ._"--Nan read
on--"_If either of you know any impediment why ye may not be lawfully
joined together in matrimony, ye do now confess it_."

There would certainly be an impediment in her own case, since the bride
was in love with someone other than the bridegroom. Only, in the
strange world we live in, that is not regarded in the light of a
"lawful" impediment, so she wouldn't need to confess it--at least, not
to anyone except Roger, and her sense of fair play had already impelled
her to do that.

H