East Anglia (England) -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction
It was a quarter to two on the Thursday and Joan, dressed in the black silk
gown that she used to wear when on duty at Messrs. Black & Parker’s,
awaited the arrival of her intended husband in the little sitting-room, where
presently Mrs. Bird joined her, attired in a lilac dress and a bonnet with
white flowers and long tulle strings.
“What, my dear, are you going to be married in black? Pray don’t:
it is so unlucky.”
“It is the best dress that I have,” answered Joan.
“There is the pretty grey one.”
“No,” she replied hastily, “I will not wear that. Besides,
the black one is more suitable.”
“Joan, Joan,” cried Mrs. Bird, “is everything right? You
don’t look as you ought to not a bit happy.”
“Quite right, thank you,” she answered, with an unmoved
countenance. “I have been shut up for so long that the idea of going out
upsets me a little, that is all.”
Then Mrs. Bird collapsed and sat silent, but Joan, moving to the window, looked
down the street. The sight was not an inspiriting one, for it was a wet and
miserable afternoon even for London in November, and the rain trickled
ceaselessly down the dirty window-panes. Presently through the mist Joan saw a
four-wheeled cab advancing towards the house.
“Come,” she said, “here it is.” And she put on a heavy
cloak over her other wrappings.
At the door she paused for a moment, as though her resolution failed her; then
passed downstairs with a steady step. Mr. Rock was already in the passage
inquiring for her from Maria.
“Here I am,” she said; “let us go at once. I am afraid of
catching cold if I stand about.”
Apparently Samuel was too much taken aback to make any answer, and in another
minute they were all three in the cab driving towards the nearest registry.
“I managed it all right, Joan,” he said, bending forward and
raising his voice to make himself heard above the rattling of the crazy cab.
“I was only just in time, though, for I had to give forty-eight
hours’ clear notice at the registry, and to make all sorts of affidavits
about your age, and as to your having been resident in the parish for more than
fifteen days.”
Joan received this information in silence, and nothing more was said until they
arrived at the office.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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