He was in no mood for laughing, yet he grinned. "And look a regular man!" ... Girls were queer. As if it would matter to Marise what _he_ wore! But--well, hang it, why shouldn't he make her notice him? She would do that if he turned up in uniform. And wasn't that what he wished to look in her eyes, "A regular man"? He'd made up his mind to take Zélie's tip, when suddenly he remembered that Marise and he would not be married in church. They'd walk into some parson's parlour, and the knot would be tied there. He couldn't get into his uniform for a home-made affair like that. Garth had gone no further than this when Marise came back, chaperoned by Mums. "My mother makes one stipulation," the girl announced. "That the wedding shall be in a church. She's picked up English ideas, and thinks anything else 'hardly respectable.' Though I should have thought for that reason it would be more appropriate! However, _I_ don't care. Do you?" "Not a da--not a red cent," said Garth. Two minutes later he had gone to buy a marriage license, engage the services of a clergyman--and a _church_. Marise changed her dress. She would not wear white, like a _real_ bride. That would be sacrilege, she said; and compromised by putting on her favourite blue. But it was the oldest dress she owned; and she had intended giving it to Céline. The girl wished she were pale. But that could be arranged. And she was arranging it with powder when the bell of the telephone rang. Mums flew to the instrument, tearfully drawing on her gloves. Garth had called up, to give the name of the church and the hour fixed for the wedding. They must start at once. CHAPTER XV THE CHURCH DOOR Céline was a fervent admirer of Lord Severance. Half Greek, she had heard him called. To her he was wholly Greek: a Greek god. Indeed, he was miles handsomer than "_cet Apollon en marbre_" adorning a pedestal in the salon, which statue she tried to drape tastefully with climbing flowers each morning. His lordship's nose was much the same as Apollo's; so was his proud air of owning the world and not caring particularly about it: and to Céline's idea he had more to be proud of than a mere god who went naked. Gods had no pockets, and Lord Severance had many, beautifully flat yet containing banknotes with which he was generous when nobody looked. Since she could not marry him, Céline wanted Mademoiselle to do so, for Mademoiselle was her _alter ego_. She shared Mademoiselle's glory and her dresses. She wished to be maid to a countess--a _chic_ countess, as the wife of Milord Severance would be. It was desolating that Mademoiselle should throw everything over because of a silly quarrel (it must be a quarrel!) and fling herself away on a gawky giant whose clothes might have been made by a butcher!