The hour was eight o'clock, and the shop was closed. Only a pink-shaded lamp hanging in one of the alcoves shed a rosy light over the anxious faces of Audrey and Ralph, on which--very naturally--recent events had left their marks. Near them stood Madame Coralie, wearing her yashmak. She looked a weird figure in the delicate light, muffled up and swathed in her Turkish dress with many veils. Her eyes watched the pair attentively, and she signified her approval of the barrister's scheme for an immediate marriage. "It is the very best thing you can do," she said, in her harsh voice; but there was a catch in her voice as she spoke. "It will never do for Audrey to stay with me here, as people are talking about the shop. Not that there is anything wrong," said Madame Coralie, drawing herself up proudly, "for I have always kept it highly respectable. But I think that Audrey should go." "It's so sudden," faltered the girl. "We cannot help that," rejoined Ralph, soothing her; "your father has, so to speak, forced our hand. At present you are in a very awkward position, if it were known that you have left your father and taken refuge with Madame Coralie. Even the excuse for figure-treatment will not serve with some women--especially venomous cats like Mrs. Mellop. But as my wife--" "Your wife!" said Audrey, under her breath. "Oh! Ralph, I should love to be your wife. But I have no clothes." "Yes you have," said her aunt, suddenly. "Your father sent all your boxes this evening. You see, he is determined that you shall not re-enter your old home, my dear. Better become Mrs. Shawe without further delay." "Audrey, do say yes," urged the young man, impatiently. "You must see in what a difficult position you are placed." "Well, then, yes," said the girl, and Ralph kissed her. So it was arranged, and Ralph took a long farewell of the girl who was to be his wife on the morrow. Madame Coralie accompanied him to the door. "I must ask you to be kind to Audrey, Mr. Shawe," she said softly; "make up to her for all the unhappiness she has undergone." "Audrey and I will be as happy as the day is long," said Shawe, with a gay laugh, for he felt that a weight was removed from his mind by the girl's reluctant consent to the ceremony. The next day Ralph arrived at the Kensington church with Lady Sanby, and shortly afterwards Audrey, quietly dressed, made her appearance, to be eagerly welcomed by the fairy godmother. Lady Sanby kissed her fondly, and tears came into the poor girl's eyes, for she valued sympathy and had received very little of it during her short life. "Child, child, this will never do," said Lady Sanby, wiping away the tears with her own handkerchief. "A bride must not weep; it's unlucky." "Nothing can be unlucky while I am with Ralph," sobbed Audrey; "but if you knew, Lady Sanby--" "My dear, I know everything. Ralph has told me all. And now you had better get married at once, as time is passing."