They all left the church together. Christine walked between the two men down the long aisle; she did not feel a bit as if she had been married; she wondered if soon she was going to wake up and find that she had dreamt it all.
There was a taxi waiting at the church door. She got in, and both men followed. Jimmy sat beside her, but he talked to Sangster all the way. He was terribly nervous; he kept twisting and torturing the new pair of grey gloves which he had never put on; they were all out of shape and creased long before taxi stopped again at the quiet restaurant where they were to lunch.
Christine looked at Jimmy.
"What can I do with my flowers? I—everybody will know if I take them in with me." She blushed as she spoke. Jimmy's own face caught the reflection from hers.
"Oh, leave 'em in the taxi," he said awkwardly. "I'll tell the chap to come back for us in an hour."
He surreptitiously stuffed the new gloves into a coat pocket; he tried to look as if there were nothing very unusual about any of them as he led the way in.
Christine hardly ate anything; she was shy and unhappy. The kind efforts which Sangster made to make her feel at her ease added to her embarrassment. She missed her mother more and more as the moments fled away; she was on the verge of a breakdown when at last the interminable meal was ended.
She had hardly touched the champagne with which Jimmy had insisted on filling her glass; there were two empty bottles on the table, and she wondered mechanically who had drunk it all.
Sangster bade her "good-bye" as they left the restaurant; he held her hand for a moment, and looked into her eyes.
"I hope you will be very happy; I am sure you will."