Jim nodded. Through the open doors, leading into the hall, he could see Betty run down the stairs, followed by Archibald.
The Squire called after her: "God bless you, my dear! God bless you!"
She was gone.
Jim went out of the dining-room, which was situated, it will be remembered, at the top of The Whim. Most of the guests had followed the bride and groom downstairs. Upon the Persian carpet lay a small spray of lilies of the valley, fallen from Betty's bouquet. Jim glanced to right and left. Nobody was looking at him. Furtively, scarlet in the face, he stalked and bagged the spray of lilies. He placed it carefully in his pocket-book.
"That's the last of our Betty," he said.
CHAPTER XXIV
A RED TIE
Archibald had ordered a coupé to be ready for him at Westchester, but when the Bournemouth express dashed up, the stationmaster was obliged to confess that a blunder had taken place; no coupé was on the train. A first-class carriage was found, in which two seats were already occupied.
"Somebody ought to be censured for this," said the bridegroom, as the train slid out of the station. "It's inexcusable carelessness. I shall write to the directors about it."
"Pray don't," said Betty. "The matter's not worth a penny stamp."