Pendragon sighed.
“Of course,” he said, “I shall never understand women.”
Audrey put up her mouth and closed her eyes.
“Real men don’t,” she murmured. “That’s why I love you so.”
Sunday morning came, and the great sun with it. The day was all glorious.
Excitement in Sundial was running high.
All that the village knew was that Warthog was proved a rogue, and that the Lord of the Manor would take his rightful seat that August morning.
The tiny church was packed ten minutes before the hour.
At five minutes to eleven the private door was opened, and amid a breathless silence a well-dressed but familiar figure appeared in the Pendragon pew.