"Is it? Well, we can have a glass of wine and some sandwiches. I've got such a little time. My train goes at twelve...." He looked down at her with sudden fire in his eyes. "I wish I had not got to go!" he said, vehemently.
"Do you?" said Faith nervously. She shrank a little from him. "You said you would soon be back," she added.
"I know—but on one's wedding day...." He broke off abruptly as the cab stopped. "Here we are."
He held his hand to her, but she avoided it. Fear was upon her once again.
The flat was on the first floor, and the Beggar Man opened the door with his latch-key.
"I bought some flowers and things," he said helplessly. "But it doesn't look very grand. What is it?"
Faith had given a little cry.
"Oh, but it's lovely! lovely!" She had forgotten her shyness. She was running round the room like a delighted child looking at the pictures and ornaments with which it was filled.
He made her drink a glass of wine and eat some cake, but all the time her eyes were wandering round the room, lost in admiration.
He watched her with a chagrined smile. Surely this was the oddest of wedding days, he thought. A shabby little bride, who had no eyes for her groom, but who sat and stared with rapt attention at such things as chairs and pictures and ornaments.