I went back and told Celia.
"Bother," she said. "What shall we do?"
"There are other churches. There's your own, for example."
"Yes, but you know I don't like that. Why shouldn't we be married on the seventeenth?"
"I don't know at all. It seems an excellent day; it lets in my Uncle Thomas. Of course, it may exclude my Uncle William, but one can't have everything."
"Then will you go and fix it for the seventeenth to-morrow?"
"Can't I send my solicitor this time?" I asked. "Of course, if you particularly want me to go myself, I will. But really, dear, I seem to be living at St. Miriam's nowadays."
And even that wasn't the end of the business. For, just as I was leaving her, Celia broke it to me that St. Miriam's was neither in her parish nor in mine, and that, in order to qualify as a bridegroom, I should have to hire a room somewhere near.
"But I am very comfortable where I am," I assured her.
"You needn't live there, Ronald. You only want to leave a hat there, you know."