"Of course, the ceremony doesn't matter to them," replied Isabel intelligently, "because they would just wear morning dress anywhere."
"Looking at it that way, they haven't much to lose," I conceded.
"And no wedding cake," grieved Isabel, "and no reception at the house of the bride's mother. And you can't have your picture in the Queen."
"There would be a difficulty," I said, "about the descriptive part."
"And no favours for the coachman, and no trousseau——"
"I wonder," I said, "whether, under those circumstances, it's really worth while."
"Oh, well!" said Isabel.
"It's a night to Paris, and a morning to Dover," I said. "We will wait for the others at Dover—I fancy they'll hurry—that'll be another day. I'll take one robe de nuit, Isabel, three pocket handkerchiefs, one brush and comb, and tooth brush. You shall have all the rest of the bag."
"You are a perfect love," exclaimed Miss Portheris, with the most touching gratitude.
"We will share the soap," I continued, "until you are married. Afterwards——"