It occurred to neither of them that Elsie’s acceptance of his proposal was being tacitly taken for granted without a word from herself. She wondered if he would mention Mrs. Williams, but he did not do so. He continued to talk to her of his house, and of the expensive furniture that she would find in it, and of the fact that she would no longer have to work. All these considerations appealed to Elsie herself very strongly, and she listened to him willingly, although a sense of derision pervaded her mind at the extraordinary aloofness that her future husband was displaying. At last, however, he signed to a taxi as they were leaving the park, and said that he would take her to have some tea. Almost automatically, Elsie settled herself against him as soon as the taxi had begun to move. Rather stiffly, Williams passed his arm round her. His first kiss was a self-conscious, almost furtive affair that Elsie received on her upraised chin. Intensely irritated by his clumsiness, she threw herself on him with sudden violence, and forced her mouth against his in a long, clinging pressure. * * * * * Elsie Palmer was married to Horace Williams at a registrar’s office rather less than a fortnight later. Williams had insisted both upon the early date and the quietness of the wedding. He had refused to allow Elsie to tell her mother of the marriage until it was accomplished, and a lurking fear of him, and schoolgirl satisfaction in taking such a step upon her own responsibility, combined to make her obedient. Irene Tidmarsh and a man whose name Elsie never learnt, but who came with Mr. Williams, were witnesses to the marriage. Elsie was principally conscious that she was looking plain, unaccountably pale under a new cream-coloured hat and feather, and with her new shoes hurting her feet. It also occurred to her that she would have preferred a wedding in church, with wedding-cake and a party to follow it. She felt inclined to cry, especially when they came out of the dingy office, after an astonishingly short time spent inside it, and found that it was raining. “Where are we going to?” said Irene blankly. (“My goodness, Elsie, just look at your ring! Doesn’t it look queer?) I suppose you’ll take a taxi?” Mr. Williams showed no alacrity to fall in with the suggestion, but after a dubious look round at the grey sky and rain-glistening pavement he signed with his umbrella to a taxi-cab. “I suppose we’d better. Can I see you to your ’bus first, or do you prefer the Tube?” he added to Irene. Both girls flushed, and looked at one another. “Aren’t you going to give us lunch, I should like to know?” murmured Elsie. “I’m sure if I’m in the way, I’ll take myself off at once, and only too pleased to do it,” said Irene, her voice very angry. “Please don’t trouble to see me to the station, Mr. Williams.”