They went down to the lower flight, where all the guests were pitilessly ranged on each side of the broad Georgian stairs.
Of course there was the funny man, who will happen even in the best-born families. Perhaps he has some use at such a time as this. Ruth and Mrs. Hallam, both united in feeling tearful yet mutually hostile, found amusement in his constant parrot-cry of "Here they are!" or when he felt specially inspired, even "Here they aren't!" It was a relief to have any excuse at all to laugh.
And there at length they were, smiling gaily, shaking countless hands, quailing under genial pats, avoiding silver horseshoes and gold slippers. (Rice and confetti were vetoed by the mean brother.) And so into the car, with Ruth and Mrs. Hallam smiling crookedly through tears, until the funny man, dutifully fumbling with string and an old slipper, was lost in a vast cloud of steam or something white let out by the fresh-started engine, which sent the couple off amid a bellow of good-omened laughter, and every one surged in with relief to say good-bye and to agree they should have gone away much earlier. It had been hideously long, but weddings always were.
Helena, as a corner blotted out the house, came back into the car with a gay laugh.
"Got your camera, my dear?" asked Hubert. It is odd how soon a man acquires the air of a proprietor.
"I wish I'd thought of taking them as we went off," said Helena. "They looked so funny."
He made no reply. He seemed to be thinking. She wondered what about. Then, as he sat silent, she began to be afraid to interrupt his thoughts. Besides, she did not know quite what to say. It was so curious! She realised, with rather a shock, how little really she knew about this man, and here she was going away alone with him for life!... But probably brides always felt like that? It was a biggish thing to do, anyhow, getting married. She expected it would feel a bit funny with any one. Probably the man made very little difference....
And presently he spoke—if it is speaking to say, "Ah!"
They were at Charing Cross.
They had agreed to take old baggage and look a very long-established couple, but somehow porters and people were nudging each other with sympathetic joy long before they reached the first-class carriage with its wickedly big label marked "engaged."