"Help me, then," said Titania. "Get married at once in a cathedral, and all this will stop. I’ll ask the dear archbishop to officiate, Penelope. Oh, my darling!" But Penelope became Pentelican marble again; she froze into a severe goddess, and she saw Titania weep. "It’s scandalous! Oh, and they have a list of them all," said Titania. Indeed, the _New York Dustman_ had the "horde" set out in a row like the entries for the Derby. They said the betting was on Rufus Q. Plant, of course. They gave a short and succulent biography of them all. They headed the list "The Lady Penelope Handicap." They used some slang about "weight for age." "Great heavens!" said Titania, "all town is ringing with it. If this is the result of looking on marriage as one’s private business, give me publicity!" There would have been less of it if a prince had married a publican’s daughter in St. Paul’s, and had presented the dean with a set of pewter pots. "And if she does what she says!" The only men who did not talk much about Penelope were naturally those who aspired to win her. Every one neglected politics and sport to discuss her. She became politics and sport. Huge sums of money were at stake as to whether she would keep her word; as to the length of time she would keep the secret, and as to who the man was to be. There were public and private books made on the series of events. And there was a Penelope party and an opposition. Many young people who were revolutionary in their sentiments said she was right. There was a Penelope Cave in the House of Commons. Some of those who fought year in and year out for the Deceased Wife’s Sister backed her up. It was whispered that the prince was a Penelopian; two princesses threatened with objectionable persons of the royal blood were heard to observe that there was something in what she said. Penelope was within measurable distance of becoming a national, or even an international, question. Mrs. X. wrote an article in the _Fortnightly_ on "Secret Marriage in History." Mr. Z. sat down and wrote a novel, bristling with "wit and epigram," in ten days, which ran into the third edition of two hundred and fifty copies in thirty. It was said that questions were to be asked in the House. A play on the subject was forbidden by the lord chamberlain. The wittiest article on the subject was written by a Mr. Shaw. He argued that no really beautiful woman had any right to be married at all. He said plaintively that it wasn’t fair, and convinced the ugly in two syllogisms.