As for Mary, he would distribute her money between various classes of shares in the two undertakings, and once she had grasped the powerlessness of a shareholder he could rearrange her holdings if he wished. Not that he anticipated any more trouble from Mary. The last few weeks had shown her where her heart lay, dear little thing—as if anybody who knew her could have doubted which she would choose when it came to an issue between babies and Socialism—and James saw happy years ahead for Mary as well, with two daughters to counsel and two families of grandchildren to adore. She would need, of course, to be petted for a week or so after the wedding. It might be a good thing, if he could manage it, to take her away for a little trip somewhere. Why not? Why shouldn't the old people have their honeymoon as well as the youngsters?
The days passed pleasantly and rapidly—he felt too good-natured even to make a fuss about Rosemary's absurd arrangements for the wedding. Rosemary said that she was going to be married by a registrar, and that she did not wish to have anybody there when it happened. She regarded the marriage ceremony, she informed her father, as the ratifying by the State of a private contract. One did not invite all one's friends to come and cry when one had a document stamped at Somerset House. But if she and Anthony were allowed to go out in the morning by themselves and be married with crossing-sweepers for witnesses, she did not object to a party in the afternoon to say good-bye to her friends.
"Very kind of you!" said James, but he refrained from saying more.
To this programme Mary wanted to add a family lunch—she did not feel that she could sit idle in the house all day, waiting for afternoon tea, and as James would be at home she would be debarred from tiring herself by helping with the preparations or the packing. But the idea of the lunch pleased no one but Mary's aunts. Even James said that if they were not to have the regulation affair they might as well get off as lightly as possible.
As a matter of fact, when the morning came, James did not care to sit idle about the house either. Rosemary had slipped away after an early breakfast, and there seemed no reason why he should not run up to the office for an hour or two. Mary took advantage of his absence to tire herself a good deal altering the arrangement of the wedding presents. She had insisted on displaying the presents because when people have been kind it is only right that they should have the pleasure of seeing what they have given.
In the middle of her unnecessary alterations a dreadful idea occurred to her. Suppose Rosemary and Anthony had refused to have witnesses because they did not mean to get married at all! Suppose they had decided that marriage was contrary to their principles, and were only pretending to marry in order to save their parents' feelings? It was the sort of thing, she had heard, that Socialists did. She tried to dismiss the idea from her mind, and for a time she succeeded, but when neither Rosemary, Anthony, nor James appeared for lunch, her fears returned. It seemed incredible that she actually did not know whether Rosemary was Mrs. Hastings or not. She could not eat, and she returned to the presents, where she made herself miserable for another hour. She had already imagined Anthony lured away from the unhappy girl who was not his wife by a tall dark woman with green eyes when, to her joy, she heard James's voice in the hall.
"Hullo, you two, married?"
Rosemary's voice answered him, clear and excited, "Yes, I suppose so—but I don't feel married a bit! The old man was perfectly charming. He shook our hands and told us he always tried to give the young people a good send-off. Here are my marriage lines—Tony said that as you weren't there he must have a certificate to protect his reputation."
Mary sat down suddenly, overcome by ridiculous relief. They were still talking and laughing outside, but she did not hear what they said. A moment later James came into the library. He saw at once that she was looking pale.
"Really, Mary," he scolded, almost vexed, "you are not to be trusted, are you? You promised that you would not do anything to tire yourself, and here you are as white as a sheet. Come upstairs at once, little mother, and rest on the sofa, and I'll sit by you and keep you amused until it's time to dress."