"Samson doesn’t know, as it happens; but if he did of course he’d agree." She might have refused to go. But could she refuse to go and be married--she, the bearer of his child? She perceived that he had been too clever for her, had trapped her, in his determination to regularize her situation at the earliest possible moment. She forced a timid smile and covered him up for the journey. The lift-boy smiled a welcome to him. The concierge was the very symbol of attentive deference, and in the carriage enveloped Lilian’s feet with the rug as though they had been two precious jewels--as they were. The manager himself made a majestic appearance, and shot out congratulations like stars from a Roman candle. And the weather was supremely gorgeous. At the _mairie_ waited the _avoué_ and his clerk, who were to act as witnesses. The _avoué_ and Felix talked to dirty and splendid officials; Felix and Lilian signed papers. "Now _you_’ve only got one thing to do," said Felix. "When I nudge you, say, ’_Oui, monsieur le maire_.’" They were inducted into the sanctuary of celebration, and Lilian saw a fat gentleman wearing the French national flag for a waistband. It would have been very comical had it not been so impressive. The ceremony started, Lilian understanding not a word. Felix nudged her. She murmured: "_Oui, monsieur le maire_." ... The ceremony closed. Immediately afterwards Felix handed her a sort of little tract in a yellowish-brown cover. "You’re married now, and if anybody says you aren’t, show ’em this." The _avoué_ was tremendous with bows and smiles. They drove back to the hotel. They were in the bedroom. Lilian took Felix apprehensively by the shoulders. "Oh, darling. You’re sure it hasn’t done you any harm?" "And that’s not quite all. There’s my will," said he. "Ring the bell." He spoke to Jacqueline, who after a few minutes brought in an English valet and an English lady’s maid. Felix was set upon having his will witnessed by people with English addresses. He silently gave Lilian the will to read. He had written it himself. In three lines it bestowed upon her all that was his. Not a syllable about his sister. Well, that was quite right, because Miss Grig had means of her own. Sitting in the easy chair, with a blotting-pad on his knees, Felix signed the will. Then the valet and the lady’s maid signed, with much constraint and flourish. Felix gave them fifty francs apiece, and dismissed them. "Put that with your marriage certificate," he said to Lilian, folding up the will and offering it to her. "I think I’ll get back to bed. Exhausting work, being married!" He laughed shortly. "I’m going to sleep," he said later, after he had eaten and drunk. "You be off downstairs and have your lunch."