"I am afraid, also, that if I should be married under any other name than my own our marriage itself might turn out to be nothing more than a practical joke instead of a legal union."
"Mr. Kyte!" she suddenly exclaimed, with her eyes flashing fire. "You insult me! Am I the sort of woman that would compromise my good name in a marriage of doubtful legality?"
"Oh, no; certainly you would not! Nor did I mean that. I earnestly beg your pardon!" said Craven, penitently.
"You are a silly gander, and a dear, darling duck of a boy! And I love you! But you must understand that I know what I am about. And you must trust me—you must trust me; and, once for all, you must trust me!" she said, archly, giving his arm another squeeze.
"I do—I do! Come; shall we be going? I am on the rack till our wedding is over."
"Yes; but we must take a cab. The distance is a long one."
"There is a cab-stand a couple of blocks from here. I noticed it as I came along. We will take one there, if you please."
She assented, and they walked on to the stand and engaged a cab.
When they were seated in it Craven Kyte ordered the cabman to drive to the rectory of St. —— Church.
Half an hour's driving brought them to their destination.