“Why not, pray?” But as Clara did not answer her father’s question, Susie explained the clause in the divorce.
“Why, this is what has troubled you, darling,” said Paul, in his tenderest voice. “Be reassured. It is only a form. By marrying you might be liable to a charge of contempt of court, the penalty of which is only a fine. No one ever notices this injunction; at least, I never heard of a case.”
“Is that all?” asked Clara, amazed and almost ashamed that she had been so long disturbed by a mere bugbear. “But women are so ignorant of legal matters.”
“The Social Palace will make a wiser generation of women,” Susie said. “The children will learn politics in their cradles.”
“And bambins will commence to exercise the franchise by balloting for their little industrial leaders,” said Susie. “But come, our Chateau Yquem is waiting. There is only one thing wanting. If these two dear ones could only be married to-night, and have the bother all over!”
“Papa,” said Clara, “I must have inherited from you my repugnance to ceremonies. I would never get married in the world, if it wasn’t for my love for Paul,” she added, looking at him.
“We will have no ceremony, dear one,” he said. “The marriage contract, duly attested, is all that is necessary; besides, any one can perform the marriage ceremony. It is not necessary that it should be a priest, for marriage is a civil contract.”
“Why, let us draw up the contract now,” said Susie, forgetting the waiting Sauterne. “Here is my desk and all proper materials.”
Paul did not need any urging. The contract was duly signed in less than ten minutes. As Clara signed her name, she exclaimed, “Why, I am a victim to a conspiracy! My consent to this precipitate act has not been even asked.”
“But there is your name,” said Paul. “It is too late for retraction. I shall at once assert my prerogatives.”