Then she saw the familiar white roadster, with Billy in the chauffeur’s seat, turning into the side street where several policemen were already directing the movements of the parked carriages and motors toward the church entrance. His overcoat was flung open and the light of the lamp at the intersecting streets smote upon his shirt bosom. It was ridiculous for him to have put on evening clothes and a silk hat when he had a long drive before him! The policemen bawled to him not to interfere with the traffic. Ignoring their signals he drove his car forward. Nan watched with mounting anger the disturbance he was creating. The crowd that had assembled in the hope of catching a glimpse of the bride now found Copeland and his altercation with the police much more diverting.
“Billy Copeland’s drunk again,” some one behind Nan remarked contemptuously.
The white car suddenly darted forward and crashed into a motor that was advancing in line toward the corner, causing a stampede among the waiting vehicles.
While the police were separating the two cars, Nan caught sight of Eaton, who seemed to be trying to persuade the policemen of Copeland’s good intentions. Billy’s voice was perfectly audible to the spectators as he demanded to be let alone.
“They haven’t got any right to block this street; it’s against the law to shut up a street that way!”
The policemen dragged him from the seat and a chauffeur from one of the waiting cars jumped in and backed the machine out of the way. Nan waited uncertainly to see what disposition the police were making of Billy; but having lifted the blockade they left him to his own devices. He had been drinking; that was the only imaginable explanation of his conduct, and her newly established confidence in him was gone. However, it would be best to wait and attempt to speak to him, as he might mingle in the crowd and make inquiries for her that would publish the fact that they had planned flight.
Suddenly she heard her name spoken, and turned to find Eaton beside her.
“Too bad about Copeland,” he remarked in his usual careless fashion; “but one of those policemen promised to see that he went home.”
She was bewildered by his sudden appearance. Eaton never missed anything; he would certainly make note of her gown and hat as not proper for occasions of highest ceremony. Nor was it likely that he had overlooked the two suitcases strapped to the rear of Billy’s car.
“Looked for you all over the church, and had given you up,” Eaton was saying. “You can’t say no—simply got to have you! Stupid to be pulling off a wedding the night we’re dedicating the new swimming-pool at the Wright Settlement House. Programme all shot to pieces, but Mamie Pembroke’s going to sing and you’ve got to do a recitation. Favor to an old friend! They dumped the full responsibility on me at six o’clock—six, mind you!”