of course! not quite cosmos, what d'you call
it--um--um--um?"

"Miraud Soeurs, I believe--yes--did you like that draped effect? I
suppose he did--poor old Susie's up to her eyes in debt! Didn't the
happy bride look ghastly? Wonder how she came by the accident--and
what it was--and means--um--um--um!"

"Yes! _very_, in a bizarre way. I'm damned sorry for her. Did you
hear about the girl in the shop basement?--heavy! I should think
so--put the screw on what?--hear the bride's settlement is simply
enormous--um--um--um!"

And as they gossiped and criticised, tearing each other to pieces
without zest, having already done it so often that their minds
resembled rows of backyards piled with the rags and bones of their
mutual enemies--or so-called friends--the organ played softly, and the
sun through the stained glass flung dazzling lozenges of colour upon
the tiles and pillars.

Then came that unmistakable rustle of anticipation, followed by the
satisfied sigh of those who have patiently waited either for the
hoisting of the black flag upon the prison wall, or the appearance of a
popular bride in the doorway of the church.

There was a shimmer of white and silver, and a strenuous tussle in the
pews and aisles as the stereotyped march from "Lohengrin" crashed
through the little church.

Jan Cuxson made one step backwards, and stopped as his heel struck
against the wall, then stepped forward and stood right in the path of
the bridal party.

Straight down they came without a halt; gushing women who did not know
her darted forward to shower the bride with their unwanted
congratulations, hesitated and darted back with self-conscious giggles
as they met the stony, unresponsive eyes in the death-white face.

Very slowly she passed, with the fingers of one hand resting on the arm
of the corpulent, self-satisfied man beside her; the other arm,
bandaged from elbow to wrist, was held in a sling across her breast,
the fingers nearly touching the one jewel she wore, a sleepy cat's-eye
hanging from a slender golden chain.

The happy bride was looking straight in front, down the road to
Calvary, where stood a man outlined against the burst of light flooding
through the door.

She neither slowed nor hastened as she passed through the lane of
twitching mouths and popping eyes and approached him; then she stood
quite still, a gleaming, living statue in shimmering satin and lace,
and removing her hand from her husband's arm,