They were greeted at the church door by the beaming Indiarubber Man. "Come along in—spot or plain?—I mean Bride or Bridegroom? Bride’s friends on the left and Bridegroom’s on the right—or is it the other way about? I’m getting so rattled.... I’ve just put the old caretaker in a front pew under the impression that it was your rich aunt, Guns! What a day, what a day! Got the ring, Torps? Here come the Bridesmaids, bless ’em! Go on, you two, get up into your proper billets.... ’The condemned man walked with unfaltering step’—oh, sorry, I forgot...." The Groomsmen slid into their pew with much rattling of sword-scabbards and nodding of heads and whispering. On their gilded shoulders appeared to lie the responsibility of the whole affair. The Bridegroom took up his appointed place and stood, his hands linked behind his back, looking down the aisle to where the choir was gathering. The church seemed a sea of faces, glinting uniforms, and women’s finery. Who on earth were they all? He had no idea he knew so many people.... Quite sure Millicent didn’t.... How awful it must be to have to preach a sermon.... The faint scent of lilies drifted up to where he was standing. At his side Torps shifted his feet, and the ferrule of his scabbard clinked on the aisle. Dear old Torps! ... How he must be hating it all. There was a faint stir at the entrance. The Bridesmaids’ black velvet hats and white feathers were bobbing agitatedly. He caught a glimpse of a white-veiled figure. People were turning round, staring and whispering. Dash it all! It wasn’t a circus.... What did they think they were here for? "There she is," murmured Torps. "Not much longer now." The clergyman was giving out the number of a hymn from the back of the church somewhere, and the deep, sweet notes of the organ poured out over their heads: then the voices of the choir-boys swelled up, drawing nearer.... Again the scent of lilies. "Stand by," from Torps, tensely. The choir-boys filed past, singing; one had on a red tie that peeped above his cassock. They glanced at him indifferently as they went by, their heads on a level with his belt-buckle.... Then the white-veiled figure on the Colonel’s arm—Millicent: his, in a few short minutes, for ever and aye.... He drew a deep breath. "_Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God...._" Torps touched him lightly on the elbow. * * * * * "_I, John Mainprice Edgar..._" "I, John Mainprice Edgar:" "_Take thee, Millicent..._" "Take thee, Millicent:" * * * * * "_To have and to hold..._" This was simple enough—"To have and to hold:" * * * * * "And thereto I plight thee my troth." How warm and steady the small hand was, lying in his: then gently withdrawn. Torps was trying to attract attention—What was his trouble? The ring—Of course, the ring....