'Certainly,' replies Philippa, 'get out of the bath now and after your breakfast you shall come to my room.'
Teddy looks longingly at the water and then at her, finally with a deep sigh he gets out of the bath and submits to being rubbed dry by Marie.
The morning wears on and five minutes after the appointed time Lippa calm and very lovely in her bridal attire, walks up the aisle of St P—— leaning on her brother's arm, and there before the altar takes James Dalrymple to be her husband, for better, for worse, till death them do part.
Into further details there is no need to go; weddings are all alike, you will say, except, of course, when you happen to be one of the chief parties concerned. There was of course, the orthodox best man, bridesmaids, and spectators, the lengthy signing of the register and last but not least Mendelssohn's wedding march. I wonder how the world could have got on without it!
'Well, I'm glad that's over, ain't you?' says Mrs Dalrymple, who is comfortably seated in a railway carriage, her husband opposite.
'Very,' replies Jimmy, looking unutterable things at her. 'I say though, how late you were. I thought you were never coming, and Helmdon had the fidgets.'
'It was exactly five minutes late,' says she, 'for George looked at his watch just before the carriage stopped, but do look at that woman, isn't she lovely?'
The train is stopping at one of the suburban stations, and the lady who has caught Lippa's attention is hurrying down the platform, trying to find a seat, holding a small child by the hand.
Jimmy pokes his head out of the window. 'By Jove,' he says, 'she is handsome. She's getting into a third class, doesn't look like it, does she?'