“Well, I think you have got it this time. I _was_ looking after my baggage. I was trying to find out how and when we could get married.” “Oh!” “Yes, oh! Does that shock you? I find they have some idiotic arrangement by which a person has to live here three months before he can be married, although I was given some hope that, by paying for it, a person could get a special licence. If that is the case, I am going to have a special licence to-morrow.” “Indeed?” “Yes, indeed. Then we can be married at the hotel.” “And don’t you think, George, that I might have something to say about that?” “Oh, certainly! I intended to talk with you about it. Of course I am talking with you now on that subject. You admitted the possibility of our getting married. I believe I had better get you to put it down in writing, or have you say it before witnesses, or something of that sort.” “Well, I shouldn’t like to be married in a hotel.” “In a church, then? I suppose I can make arrangements that will include a church. A parson will marry us. That parson, if he is the right sort, will have a church. It stands to reason, therefore, that if we give him the contract he will give us the use of his church, _quid pro quo_, you know.” “Don’t talk flippantly, please. I think it better to wait until to-morrow, George, before you do anything rash. I want to see something of the country. I want us to take a little journey together to-morrow, and then, out in the country, not in this grimy, sooty city, we will make arrangements for our marriage.” “All right, my dear. Where do you intend to go?” “While you have been wasting your time in getting information relating to matrimony, I have been examining time-tables. Where I want to go is two or three hours’ ride from here. We can take one of the morning trains, and when we get to the place I will allow you to hire a conveyance, and we will have a real country drive. Will you go with me?” “_Will_ I? You better believe I will. But you see, Katherine, I want to get married as soon as possible. Then we can take a little trip on the Continent before it is time for us to go back to America. You have never been on the Continent, have you?” “Never.” “Well, I am very glad of that. I shall be your guide, philosopher, and friend, and, added to that, your husband.” “Very well, we will arrange all that on our little excursion to-morrow.” Ninth Day Spring in England—and one of those perfect spring days in which all rural England looks like a garden. The landscape was especially beautiful to American eyes, after the more rugged views of Transatlantic scenery. The hedges were closely clipped, the fields of the deepest green, and the hills far away were blue and hazy in the distance. “There is no getting over the fact,” said Morris, “that this is the prettiest country in the whole world.”