And then they were married. The marriage was by no means a gay affair, the chief management of it falling into the hands of Mrs. Dick Roby. Mrs. Dick indeed provided not only the breakfast,--or saw rather that it was provided, for of course Mr. Wharton paid the bill,--but the four bridesmaids also, and all the company. They were married in the church in Vere Street, then went back to the house in Manchester Square, and within a couple of hours were on their road to Dover. Through it all not a word was said about money. At the last moment,--when he was free from fear as to any questions about his own affairs,--Lopez had hoped that the old man would say something. "You will find so many thousand pounds at your bankers';"--or, "You may look to me for so many hundreds a year." But there was not a word. The girl had come to him without the assurance of a single shilling. In his great endeavour to get her he had been successful. As he thought of this in the carriage, he pressed his arm close round her waist. If the worst were to come to the worst, he would fight the world for her. But if this old man should be stubborn, close-fisted, and absolutely resolved to bestow all his money upon his son because of this marriage,--ah!--how should he be able to bear such a wrong as that? Half-a-dozen times during that journey to Dover he resolved to think nothing further about it, at any rate for a fortnight; and yet, before he reached Dover, he had said a word to her. "I wonder what your father means to do about money? He never told you?" "Not a word." "It is very odd that he should never have said anything." "Does it matter, dear?" "Not in the least. But of course I have to talk about everything to you;--and it is odd." CHAPTER XXV The Beginning of the Honeymoon