“Well, what do you think of her?” asked Markworth, when Susan had gone up-stairs to take her things off, under the charge of the old landlady.
“What do I think, Mister Markworth? Well, I think you are put in luck’s way. She’s as pretty a young lady, and as ladylike a one as I ever seed.”
“You don’t see anything about her, do you?” he asked anxiously.
“Queer? not I; she’s a bit nervous, in course, but I’d bet she’s as sensible a lady as you or I.”
“Thank you, Joe, good day; I want you to be here at ten o’clock to-morrow morning. You must not be late; it will be my marriage day.”
“Never fear, sir; I’ll be here sharp ten,” and the confederates separated—the marker to go back to his billiard-room, where he had left a friend watching over the interest of his pool table, and Markworth to think over the day and study his plans.
On the next morning, Wednesday, August 28th, 1867, Susan Hartshorne was married to Allynne Markworth, at the church of St. Catherine’s Cross the Less, Johnson’s Lane, E.C., in the presence of Joseph Begg and the parish clerk, witnesses.