I was rather relieved by what seemed so moderate a demand. "Certainly, darling," I said; "we will be married in Westminster Abbey, by the Archbishop of Canterbury, if you wish it, and it can be arranged. What matter where or how the ceremony take place, or what it costs, provided it makes you mine for ever?" [Illustration: "Let us be married in the Lion's Cage."] "Then, Theodore," she said, pressing my arm impulsively with her slim fingers, while the rays of a street lamp in the square fell on her upturned face and shining eyes, "let us be married at the Agricultural Hall--in the Lions' Cage!" I confess to being considerably startled. I had expected something rather out of the common, but nothing in the least like this. "In the lions' cage!" I repeated, blankly. "Wouldn't that be rather _smelly_, Lurana? And, besides, the menagerie people would never lend it for such a purpose. Where would they put the lions, you know?" "Why, the lions would be _there_, of course," she said, "or else there'd be nothing in it." "If I am to be married in a lion-cage," I said, with a very feeble attempt at levity, "I should very much prefer that there _was_ nothing in it." "Ah, you may laugh, Theodore!" she said, "but, after all your professions, surely you won't refuse the very first indulgence I ask! You may think it a mere whim, a girlish caprice; but understand this--I am thoroughly in earnest about it. If you are willing to marry me as I wish, the wedding may be as soon as ever you please. But if not, tell me so plainly, and let us part for ever. Either I will be married in my own way, or not at all." What could I do? It was simply impossible to give her up now, the very moment after she was won. And to lose her for such a mere punctilio; for, of course, this condition of hers was too fantastic to be practicable; the Professor would certainly refuse his consent to so eccentric a ceremony; Lurana herself would probably realise before long the absurdity of the idea. In the meantime, as her acknowledged _fiancé_, I should have the immense advantage of being on the spot when she returned to a more reasonable frame of mind. So I gave way, and assured her that I had no personal objection to lions, and would as soon be married in their presence as elsewhere, provided that we could obtain the necessary permission; and even if I had thought this more probable than I did, I believe--so potent was the witchery of Lurana's voice and eyes--I should have said precisely the same. "Dearest Theodore!" she murmured, "I never really doubted you. I felt so sure that you would be nice and sympathetic about it. If we couldn't agree about such a trifling thing as where we are to be married, we _should_ be unsuited to one another, shouldn't we? Now we will just walk round the square once more, and then go in and tell the others what we have arranged."