"Jim, dear," she pleaded, "why can't we be married at once—quite quietly—and then stay with all these people afterwards?"
"I promised your mother we'd have the wedding at the Oratory," he reminded her.
"Yes, but we needn't invite anyone."
"They'll be awfully hurt if they're not asked."
"Oh! what nonsense!" she exclaimed. "Who is there? George, will you be offended if you're not invited?"
"It would be the truest kindness," I said. By old-fashioned standards her anxiety to get married was hardly decent, but Sonia paid scanty respect to old-fashioned standards.
"What did I tell you, Jim?" she cried triumphantly. "You go to mother and tell her it's all fixed for the first of June and nobody's to be invited."
Two days later I met Lady Dainton at luncheon and asked her what had been decided.
"It'll be some time in June or July," she told me, adding with emphasis, "at the Oratory, as we arranged at first. Jim had an absurd idea of not inviting anyone. So like a man, don't you know? making a hole-and-corner business. Anyone in his position, don't you know?—it's expected of them."
So it was decreed that fitting publicity should be given to the ceremony, but the date was not to be either in June or July. On the sixth of May King Edward died, and England was plunged into mourning.