"Anne, if you wish to drive me wild, continue to talk about that long-legged lieutenant. William McBean will be my death, I know he will. Come, I'm going. Good-night, everybody. Go to bed, Anne, and dream about the McBean person." And she was off, the silver gauze of her train floating after her like a comet's tail. * * * * * All the next day gloom hung over the March household. Nobody mentioned Sir John Blood's name. Mrs. Wodehouse left early. It was well she did, for at precisely five o'clock, when Theodora with Mrs. March and Anne were sitting in the drawing-room, the footman threw open the door and announced: "The Marquis of Longacre and Sir John Blood." * * * * * The object in bringing the tottering and doddering old marquis along soon appeared. He at once engaged in a senile and simultaneous flirtation with Mrs. March and Anne, while Sir John devoted himself to Theodora. Anne, too, was finally drawn into conversation with the pair, and so fascinating were Sir John's manners that she quite forgot his character and experiences, and, strangely _maladroit_, made some allusion to Henry the Eighth, whom she declared to be a murderous old tyrant. "Why?" mildly asked Sir John, and taking up the subject of Henry's killing his wives, he elucidated it in so masterly a manner that to Anne's amazement she found herself admitting that Henry was a much maligned individual, and deserved all the credit which he claimed before Parliament in being willing to assume the fetters of matrimony a sixth time for the good of his beloved subjects, after five successive disappointments. But why prolong the tale? Theodora was full of enthusiasm--Sir John was full of love--and proposed within a fortnight. Anne wept, tormented her lover with her apprehensions for Theodora, Mrs. March implored, but Theodora, bright and brave, would not be dissuaded. "You'll see," she cried. "Fatima--don't talk to me about Fatima--a great fat creature with no spirit at all. I'll charm him if he'll let me. Don't you suppose I believe in love as much as every other woman does? But if he undertakes to cut my throat--" Shrieks from Mrs. March completed the sentence. But it was of no use. Theodora's mind was made up and with that young woman, her word was law. * * * * * In July, Theodora March and Sir John Blood were married at St. George's, Hanover Square. The Archbishop of Canterbury performed the ceremony, the American minister gave the bride away, and the Prince of Wales signed the register. The settlements were splendid. Sir John voluntarily resigned all interest in Theodora's fortune in case he survived her. This affair about the settlements gave Theodora, a slight shock, as she turned it over in her mind. For the first time she realized what it was to marry a man with such a fatal facility for getting rid of his wives.