For weeks past now, from the windows of cell 0638 at the Honeycomb, Captain Fergus Ross had been accustomed to glance up from his desk and to observe through the window various taxis, cars, or broughams drive up to the door of the Adelphi Chapel. He had seen young people and their friends alight in ceremonial kit. He had watched them go in; and he had seen young couples presently come out again, sometimes under arches of swords, sometimes under those of crutches and walking-sticks, sometimes in a simple shower of confetti. No doubt these sights had confirmed him in his misogynistic broodings. This very morning he had attracted the attention of his colleague, Major Leefe, to the window, and, pointing down upon a hurrying young figure in khaki with a sword, had announced with a grim and pitying smile, "There goes another good man to his doom." Even as he pronounced the last word (which he did as though it were the German for "stupid"), he observed the hurrying figure below to raise its head for a moment as it looked quickly around. He had recognized Jack Awdas. Five minutes afterwards he had seen Golden in all her bridal glory, step out of a taxi with Mr. van Huysen. You could have knocked Captain Ross down with a feather. What was everybody coming to? he had pondered irritably ever since. _All_ his friends.... * * * * * "I congrrratulate----" he began stiffly, but at that very moment a clamour broke out above the music in the room they had left. "Where is he?" "Fetch him in----" "Fancy bolting like that----" came the muffled cries. The door was flung suddenly open as Brown, Ellerton, the Highlander, Sergeant Tronchet and the Master of the House burst suddenly into the lobby. "Here he is!" "Now, you rascal----" "Dark horse, what?" "Come in, you dog----" "Ah, _farceur_! Félicita----" "Bai Jove, trying to hush it up----" "Mr. Awdas, I say. Mr. Awdas----" "Ah, would you----" "Monsieur de l'Audace!" "Priceless!" Among them they almost carried Jack's Herculean young form back into the sitting-room. Captain Ross followed. The golden head of the Sunburst Girl towered above the heads of Olwen and of Miss Walsh as they pressed upon her their enthusiastic good wishes. Laughing, flushed, sparkling, she was giving her version of that dilatory courtship of Jack's; while Mrs. Cartwright in the corner by that desk of hers, was hunting in some _cache_ of hers for something (to wit, the last drop of Bubbly she possessed).