“Stand up, please,” said the minister.
Thane made his responses as one in a dream. Hers were firm and clear, and all the time she was looking at her father as she had looked at him first, with those tight little wrinkles around her eyes.
So they were married.
“That’s all,” said Enoch, to the minister, curtly. “The carriage is at the door.”
The minister bowed and vanished.
Enoch drew a piece of cardboard from his pocket and handed it to Thane. It was a blue ticket,—the token of dismissal.
“Now go,” he said, “and let me never see you again.”
Agnes looked up at Thane.
“I can walk,” she said, taking him by the arm. It was so. She could, with a slight limp. Enoch, seeing it, sneered. He watched them walk into the night and closed the door behind them.
At the gate Thane said: “But you can’t,” and started to pick her up.