"It's worse than terrible. It's idiotic," said Zora. She was mystified, and being a woman who hated mystification, was angry. Her mother began to cry. It was a disgraceful thing; before a registrar, too. "As soon as I let her go on the stage, I knew something dreadful would happen to her," she wailed. "Of course Mr. Dix is foolish and eccentric, but I never thought he could do anything so irregular." "I have no patience with him!" cried Zora. "I told him only a short while ago that both of us would be delighted if he married Emmy." "They must come back, dear, and be married properly. Do make them," urged Mrs. Oldrieve. "The Vicar will be so shocked and hurt--and what Cousin Jane will say when she hears of it--" She raised her mittened hands and let them fall into her lap. The awfulness of Cousin Jane's indignation transcended the poor lady's powers of description. Zora dismissed the Vicar and Cousin Jane as persons of no account. The silly pair were legally married, and she would see that there was a proper notice put in _The Times_. As for bringing them back--she looked at the clock. "They are on their way now to Folkestone." "It wouldn't be any good telegraphing them to come back and be properly married in church?" "Not the slightest," said Zora; "but I'll do it if you like." So the telegram was dispatched to "Septimus Dix, Boulogne Boat, Folkestone," and Mrs. Oldrieve took a brighter view of the situation. "We have done what we can, at any rate," she said by way of self-consolation.