And he stopped and looked landwards, where the indistinct grey blur was beginning to take the pattern of fields and cliffs and beach.
"If what?" said Ellis, shifting the sail a little.
"If only I were married to Valmai."
"Phew! what next?" said Ellis, "married! Cardo Wynne, you are bringing things to a climax. My dear fellow, it would be far harder to part from a wife of a week than from a sweetheart of a year. That's my idea of wedded bliss, you see."
"Nonsense; it would not!" said Cardo. "It would give me a sense of security—a feeling that, come fair or come foul, nothing could really come between me and Valmai; and besides, I should not want her to be the wife of a week—I should be satisfied to be married even on the morning of my departure. Come, Ellis, be my friend in this matter. You promised when I first told you of my love for Valmai that you would help us out of our difficulties. You are an ordained priest; can you not marry us in the old church on the morning of the 14th? You know the Burrawalla sails on the 15th, and I go down to Fordsea the day before, but not till noon. Can you not marry us in the morning?"
"Has Valmai consented?" asked Ellis, sinking down in the prow of the boat and looking seriously at his companion.
"I—I—have not pressed the question, but if she agrees, will you do it?"
"Do it? My dear fellow, you talk as if it were a very simple affair.
Do it, indeed! Where are the banns?"
"I would buy a license."
"And the ring?"