"She can't marry him," repeated Ralph calmly. "Sir Ernest Scrivener alias Marmaduke Moorsdyke is married already! Read this."
And he thrust the fragment of newspaper into Lord Tamerton's hand.
With a low cry of content Lady Margaret fell into her lover's arms. "Oh, my dear!" she murmured.
And as they stood clasped in a close embrace the clouds parted and far, far above them appeared the beautiful white summit of the Wetterhorn shining dazzlingly in the sunlight.
BUSINESS AS USUAL DURING ALTERATIONS.
Spit for Spat.
Orator, in Hyde Park:—