"Well, Ingleside," I said, "I must say you take it very much as a matter of course." "What?" he asked. "Why, a kiss from a pretty, young, married woman," I said. "Good Heavens!" he exclaimed, running his keen eyes over Ann and Dollie. "Yes," I said, "this is Mrs. Adolphus Heathcote. She asked me to introduce her." "I'm very glad," he said. "Have some cake," and we all mercifully laughed, and the strain snapped. "But," he said a little later, "we must now fix the date of the wedding." "We are married," said Ann. "Look at my ring." "Yes," said her father. "That's all right. But we'll forget that. I can't have my daughter marrying in this hole-and-corner way. Saving trouble and expense is all very well, but there are things more important. One of them is giving my aged mother an opportunity of seeing you at the chancel steps. There are others, too, but that comes first. Now get out an almanack--I'm sure Dollie has a bookmaker's diary in his pocket--and find the earliest date for dresses and so forth, and we'll get it over properly; but until then you must consider yourself still Ann Ingleside." Dollie looked by no means cheerful as he searched for the diary. "I'm afraid you're vexed with me?" he said to Sir Gaston. "Not at all," was the reply. "I should have been, if you hadn't come to me to-day. But your mother and sisters ought to be." "That's a cert," said Dollie. "Yes, and there's someone who would have been even more furious than any of them," said Sir Gaston. "Who?" Dollie asked. "Your tailor. The idea of trying to evade destiny in this way! If ever there was a man born to be married in new clothes, it is you, and you sneak about London in tweeds trying to find a registrar base enough to be your accomplice. Now, Ann has never been dressy. For Ann it was all right. But you--my dear Dollie, never do anything so out of character again. It doesn't suit you. Go right off to Savile Row the first thing in the morning and arrange for the war-paint, and Ann, in her own more restricted way, will do the same. Meanwhile, I claim the custody of the ring." The next evening I chanced to run across Dollie in St. James's Park as I was on my way to Queen Anne's Gate, and he had a smile that irradiated his honest countenance like the sun on the sea. He unfolded an evening paper, and although the breeze defeated his efforts several times, he pronounced no malediction. Evidently Mr. Adolphus Heathcote was in a good temper. "Look here," he said, "here's a little bit of all right." I followed the direction of his gloved finger and saw that a horse named Decree Nisi had won a race. "Wait a bit," he said, moving his finger lower, and I saw that the starting price of Decree Nisi was 20 to 1. "What do you think of that?" he asked. "Not bad odds?" "Very good," I said.