"Yes," said Harry anxiously, awed by the fixity of her eyes upon him. "I did indeed, mamma. I was very particular."
"Your full name?"
"Yes, the man said my full name—Henry de la Pole Manvers."
"That was the man at the registry office?"
"Yes."
"And"—the voice laboured heavily and was barely audible—"did Nurse write her name nicely too?"
"Yes, and her brother and the man. We all wrote them, and then we all had tea at Frobisher's,—only it wasn't tea,—and Nurse's brother ordered a bottle of champagne. Nurse didn't want him to, but he said people didn't get married every day. And he drank our health, and I drank a little tiny sip, and it made me sneeze."
Lady Louisa lay quite motionless, the sweat upon her forehead, looking at her son, who smiled seraphically back at her.
And so Nurse had actually thought she could outwit her—had pitted herself against her? She would shortly learn a thing or two on that head.