“This isn’t Sunday.”
“No; but you say that we are eloping.”
“Just for the present.”
“Quite so. But is this—er—before or after?”
“Before or—Oh!!” Comprehension flooded the girl’s mind and colored her cheeks simultaneously. “After,” she said, in a small, gaspy voice. “We—we’re married.”
“Buck up!” exhorted her companion. “Don’t take it so hard. It will soon be over. I merely wished to know, in case any question arose. When?”
“Ye—ye—yesterday. I mean, this morning.”
“Best stick to yesterday,” he advised kindly. “Before 9 a.m. is too early for probability.” He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
“You’re not growing faint under the strain, I hope?” inquired Darcy, recovering her spirits.
“It isn’t that,” he replied dreamily. “I am only thinking that things like this do not happen to people. I shall count three, and if you’re still there I shall know—well, I shall know that my mind is failing—and be glad of it.”