Mosscrop smiled and nodded. “Only a minute more,” he said. “I spoke about fairyland. I have been under its spell all this week. I have committed myself to its charm for the rest of my days. When you return to London this evening, northward, it is Archie Who will drive you. I go southward to the Loire country instead, under the magic of the enchantment which beckons and guides and propels me, all in one. To quit riddles, good people, you will notice that there is a fifth place laid here before us. To connect this fact with the toast, the seat is waiting for _my_ Queen. This is Sherry, decanted from the ‘Anchor’s’ oldest bin. I suggest to you the filling of your glasses.” He moved toward the door as he spoke, opened it, and turned to the others, with Ves-talia on his arm. “Mr. Skinner,” he said gently. “We crave your approbation for what we have done. We were married by the registrar of St. Dunstan’s at ten o’clock this morning, and your niece came on here direct by train, bringing her luggage and my own, which I thank God devoutly will always travel together in future. We love each other very, very much.” There fell here upon the masculine vision the spectacle of two women entwined in each other’s arms, and of two beautiful heads, one raven-black, one glowing like light through clouded amber, bent tenderly together. The sound of little moans proceeded from this swaying, interlocked group, and then of kisses and of subdued ecstatic sobbing laughter. Lord Drumpipes, staring vacantly from these women to his boyhood friend, gulped his sherry in an absent-minded way. David, in rapid whispers, outlined meanwhile the situation to his bewildered ear. “Eh!” he called out at last. “It is the same lassie? The yellow-haired one? The one who smashed my moosie?” “Shut up, you loon!” growled David fiercely, under his breath. “Is this the time to blab about such things? _I_ kicked your your old cow into splinters, and I’ll serve the rest of the idiotic show the same way if you mention the word ‘moose.’ Chuck it, man! That’s a thing for the girls to tell each other a year hence, perhaps. Have some delicacy about you!” He turned to Mr. Skinner, who stood as one petrified, his gaze riveted upon the young women. “I’ve been explaining to my friend, Lord Drumpipes,” David said, lifting his voice, “the romantic nature of my acquaintance with your niece, my wife. I think you have been told about it.” Mr. Skinner shifted his glance to the speaker. “To some extent--to some extent,” he murmured weakly. “It has taken me greatly by surprise. I scarcely know-----” David had advanced, and was holding out his hand, with a confident, masterful sort of smile. “I suppose it’s all right,” the old gentleman said, sending confused, appealing glances toward his inattentive daughter. “Adele seems not to object--I take it for granted that----”