Confound the woman! Why could she not let well alone? A sullen anger burned in Beauvayse as he said, and not in the tone of the ardent lover:
"As soon as we can possibly manage it."
The Mother's voice said, coldly and clearly:
"I do not approve of long engagements. If the marriage takes place, it must be soon."
With the consciousness of one who is impelled to take a desperate leap, Beauvayse found himself saying:
"It cannot be too soon."
"Then ... before the Relief?" cried Lady Hannah, and Beauvayse heard himself answering:
"If Lynette agrees?"
The rapture of submission in her look was intoxicating. He reached out his hand and laid it lightly on her shoulder. Then, without another word, they went on together, and the tall, soldierly figure in brown, and the slender shape in the green skirt and little white coat, with the dainty plumed hat crowning the squirrel-coloured hair, were seen in darkening relief against the flaming orange of the sky.
"A Wedding under Fire. Bridal Ceremony in a Beleaguered City," murmured the enthusiastic journalist. Her gold fountain-pen, hanging at her châtelaine, seemed to wriggle like a thing of life, as she imagined herself aiding, planning, assisting at, and finally sitting down to describe the ceremony and the wedding-veil on the little Greek head. She babbled as her quick, bird-like gait carried her along beside the tall, stately-moving figure in the black habit: