"No, I am not faint," she said. "The heat makes my head ache, that's all." "You ought to see a doctor," he said restlessly. "But not that ass, Tudor. We'll go up to town to-morrow. Avery," his voice softened suddenly, "I'm sorry I dragged you here if you didn't want to come." She put out her hand to him instantly. It was the old Piers who had spoken, Piers the boy-lover who had won her heart so irresistibly, so completely. He held the hand tightly, and she thought his face quivered a little as he said: "I don't mean to be a tyrant, dear. But somehow--somehow, you know--I can't always help it. A man with a raging thirst will take--anything he can get." His eyes were still upon her, and her heart quickened to compassion at their look. They seemed to cry to her for mercy out of a depth of suffering that she could not bear to contemplate. She leaned swiftly towards him. "Piers,--my dear--what is it? What is it?" she said, under her breath. But in that instant the look vanished. The old fierce flare of passion blazed forth upon her, held her burningly, till finally she drew back before it in mute protest. "So you will forgive me," he said, in a tone that seemed to contain something of a jeering quality. "We are all human, what? You're looking better now. Egad, Avery, you're splendid!" Her heart died within her. She turned her face away, as one ashamed. The church at Wardenhurst was thronged with a chattering crowd of guests. Piers and Avery arrived late, so late that they had some difficulty in finding seats. Tudor, who was present and looking grimly disgusted with himself, spied them at length, and gave up his place to Avery. The bride entered almost immediately afterwards, young, lovely, with the air of a queen passing through her subjects. Dick Guyes at the altar was shaking with nervousness, but Ina was supremely self-possessed. She even sent a smile of casual greeting to Piers as she went. She maintained her attitude of complete _sang-froid_ throughout the service, and Piers watched her critically with that secret smile at the corners of his lips which was not good to see. He did not seem aware of anyone else in the church till the service was over, and the strains of the Wedding March were crashing through the building. Then very suddenly he turned and looked at his wife--with that in his dark eyes that thrilled her to the soul. A man's voice accosted him somewhat abruptly. "Are you Sir Piers Evesham? I'm the best man. They want you to sign the register." Piers started as one rudely awakened from an entrancing dream. An impatient exclamation rose to his lips which he suppressed rather badly. He surveyed the man who addressed him with a touch of hauteur.