English doctors in
country villages which are hardly on the map?

No. There must be a very special reason for such a match; and I sought
for it when I met Paul Jennings. But his personality, though attractive
to many women, no doubt, wasn't quite enough to account for the
marriage. I resolved to look for something further when I got to
Devonshire and met Mrs. Jennings.

* * * * *

You wouldn't believe that a wedding ceremony in a private sitting room
of an old-fashioned hotel, with the bridegroom stretched on a sofa,
could be the prettiest sight imaginable; but it was. I never saw so
charming or so pathetic a picture!

Jim and I had sent quantities of flowers, and Doctor Jennings had sent
some, too. Rosemary and I arranged them, for there was no conventional
nonsense about this bride keeping herself in seclusion till the last
minute! Her wish was to be with the man she loved as often as she could,
and to belong to him with as little delay as possible.

We transformed the room into a pink-and-white bower, and then taxied
back to the Savoy to dress. There had been no time for Rosemary to have
a gown made, and as she had several white frocks I advised her to wear
one which Murray hadn't seen. But no! She wouldn't do that. She must be
married in something new; in fact, _everything_ new, nothing she'd ever
worn before. The girl seemed superstitious about this: and her pent-up
emotion was so intense that the least opposition would have reduced her
to tears.

Luckily she found in a Bond Street shop an exquisite model gown just
over from Paris. It was pale dove-colour and silver, and there was an
adorable hat to match. The faint gray, which had a delicate suggestion
of rose in its shadows, enhanced the pearly tints of the bride's
complexion, the coral of her lips, and the gold of her ash-blonde hair.
She was a vision when I brought her back to her lover, just in time to
be at his side before the clergyman in his surplice appeared from the
next room.

To see her kneeling by Murray's sofa with her hand in his sent the tears
stinging to my eyes, but I wouldn't let them fall. She looked like an
angel of sweetness and light, and I reproached myself bitterly because I
had half suspected her of mercenary plans.

Once during the ceremony I glanced at Doctor Jennings. He was gazing at
the bride as I had gazed, fixedly, absorbedly, with his brilliant eyes.
So intent was his look that I wondered it