Bennett and Gerald had turned strained pale faces to meet the brides as they came up the aisle. Now, Bennett’s broad white forehead seemed to give out a radiance. It had been fearful to stand behind Harriett through the service listening to the bland hollow voice of the vicar and the four unfamiliar low voices responding, and taking the long glove smooth and warm from Harriett’s hand, her rustling heavy-scented bouquet. At the sight of Bennett’s grave radiant face the fear deepened and changed. Marriage was a reality ... fearful, searching reality; it changed people’s expressions. Hard behind came Gerald and Harriett; Gerald’s long face still pale, his loosely knit figure carried along by her tense little frame as she walked, a little firm straight figure of satin, her veil thrown back from her little snub face, her face held firmly; steady and old with its solid babyish curves and its brave stricken eyes: old and stricken; that was how Sarah had looked too. No radiance on the faces of Sarah and Harriett. The Wedding March was pealing out from the chancel, a great tide of sound blaring down through the church and echoing back from the west window, near the door where they would all go out, in a moment, out into the world. On they went; how swift it all was.... Sarah and Harriett, rescued from poverty and fear ... mother’s wedding on a May morning long ago ... in the little village church ... to walk out of church into the open country; in the morning; a bride. There were no brides in London. Now to fall in behind Eve and Mr. Tremayne. Mr. Grove walked clumsily. His arm brushed against the shower bouquet. The upturned faces of the pink carnations were fresh and sweet; for nothing. To-morrow they would be dead. Harriett’s bouquet, dead too ... a wonderful dead bouquet that meant life. “Where are you, my friend, my own friend?” 16 A wedding seemed to make everybody happy. The people moving in Harriett’s new rooms were happy. Old people were new and young. They laughed.... The sad dark man, following with his tray of glasses as she went from guest to guest with Harriett’s champagne cup had laughed again and again.... The voices of the grey-clad bridegrooms rang about the rooms full of quiet relieved laughter. The outlines of their well-cut grey clothes were softly pencilled with a radiance of marriage. Round about Sarah and Eve was a great radiance. Light streamed from their satin dresses. But they were untouched. Silent and untouched and far away. What should these strange men ever know of them; coming and going? 17