“I think that is very true,” said Marie with a laugh; “but here we are, darling, and there is Mr. Latimer.”
It was indeed Dick arrayed in white flannels looking big and burly and genial, and more like a good-natured bear than ever. He held out a hand to each at the same time, and walked towards the house between them. “How are the happy pair?” he asked gaily.
“We won’t be a truly happy pair until to-morrow,” said Alan.
“Speak for yourself, dear,” said Marie lightly. “I am happy enough now.”
“You deserve to be,” said Dick smiling, “for you have come through a lot of trouble, and that always makes hearts grow fonder. But do come and give me some tea, Mrs. Fuller—I beg your pardon, Miss Inderwick, but you and Alan do look just like a married couple.”
“What’s that about marriage?” asked the vicar appearing at the drawing-room door—the trio were in the house by this time, “have Marie and Alan been studying the prayer-book.”
“Of course,” said the girl, running forward to kiss Mrs. Fuller. “I know the ceremony by heart.”
“It’s more than I do,” wailed Latimer with a shrug, “and as best man, I am sure to be a dismal failure.”
“Oh you’ll pull through somehow,” the future bridegroom assured him.
“You must give me hints then. And when you are off for your honeymoon to Cornwall, I shall find it dismal in those Barkers Inn chambers all alone.”