The wedding was to take place at St. Mark's, not far from Mr. Massey's bookshop, and the breakfast was to be given at Glenerne itself. It was to be sent in from Bunters', all but what Mr. Sandys, the baritone, of the Lillie Road branch of the East Midlands Bank, called "the wet." That was to be Mr. Wellcome's wedding-gift. He had vowed that unless he was allowed to stand just one little bottle with a bit of gold foil on it to two of the very best that ever stepped, he would never set foot in Glenerne again; and everybody knew that by "just one little bottle," Mr. Wellcome meant a case, if not two, not to speak of a liqueur for the sake of which an invading general might have sacked a monastery. Mr. Wellcome was also to give Miss Geraldine Towers away. The clear-eyed Weiniger, the ruthless Strindberg, the hypochondriac Schopenhauer himself--not one of these could have shed a more searching light of criticism on the whole apparatus of Aunt Jerry's wedding than did the bride's pretty and artistic niece. She reduced Cosimo to a state of mere respectful admiration. First there was the age of the contracting parties. It was not even (so to speak) a case of May and December; it was November and December--or, at any rate, October and November. If this was the outcome of young and musical society, what was to be expected of those who really were in the April of their lives? It was a very good thing indeed that Amory and Cosimo were able to set an example of restraint. If age must go a-giddying, youth must show itself sober and responsible. Amory put it fairly and squarely to Cosimo: was that not a Law? Cosimo agreed that it was a Law--the Law of Compensation.