“Oh, of course, Mrs. Caresfoot, nothing but a form.”
Angela’s eye fell upon the ring on her finger. She tore it off.
“Take this back,” she said, “I have done with it.”
“A married woman must wear a ring, Mrs. Caresfoot.”
She hurled it upon the floor.
Just then George and Philip returned from a little back-room where they had been with the registrar, who still remained behind, to sign the certificate. George advanced upon his wife with a dreadful smile on his features, removing the respirator as he came. His object was to kiss her, but she divined it and caught her father by the arm.
“Father,” she said, “protect me from this man.”
“Protect you, Angela; why, he is your husband!”
“My husband! Have you all agreed to drive me mad?”
Lady Bellamy saw that if something were not done quickly, there would be a shocking scene, which was the last thing she wanted, so she seized George and whispered in his ear, after which he followed her sulkily, turning round from time to time to look at Angela.