Mums flew to the instrument, tearfully drawing on her gloves.
Garth had called up, to give the name of the church and the hour fixed for the wedding. They must start at once.
CHAPTER XV
THE CHURCH DOOR
Céline was a fervent admirer of Lord Severance. Half Greek, she had heard him called. To her he was wholly Greek: a Greek god. Indeed, he was miles handsomer than "cet Apollon en marbre" adorning a pedestal in the salon, which statue she tried to drape tastefully with climbing flowers each morning. His lordship's nose was much the same as Apollo's; so was his proud air of owning the world and not caring particularly about it: and to Céline's idea he had more to be proud of than a mere god who went naked.
Gods had no pockets, and Lord Severance had many, beautifully flat yet containing banknotes with which he was generous when nobody looked. Since she could not marry him, Céline wanted Mademoiselle to do so, for Mademoiselle was her alter ego. She shared Mademoiselle's glory and her dresses. She wished to be maid to a countess—a chic countess, as the wife of Milord Severance would be. It was desolating that Mademoiselle should throw everything over because of a silly quarrel (it must be a quarrel!) and fling herself away on a gawky giant whose clothes might have been made by a butcher!
Yes, it was easy to see that there had been an upheaval of some sort. Mademoiselle was not the same since Sunday afternoon, when this huge personage had arrived by appointment, and Céline had recalled seeing him on shipboard. To be sure, Milord had come in later, and outstayed the Monsieur. But it was then the quarrel must have occurred, for Mademoiselle had been in a state unequalled even after the most trying dress rehearsals. Oh, it was a mystery—a mystery of the deepest blackness!
Céline moaned aloud, with a bleating noise, and gabbled argot as she tidied the belongings which Mademoiselle had flung everywhere.
"If I should call up Milord, how would that be?" she asked herself, and rushed to the 'phone.