"Weddings," Jim remarked in a reminiscent vein, "always recall to my mind the day I took the plunge. Odd sensation, getting married-- uncertain business--rather like backing an outsider in a race. You hope you've drawn a prize; but it's all a chance whether you have or not. It's tying a knot with your lips which you can't untie with your teeth. A man gets let in for this sort of thing. He can't help himself. He gets a sort of brain fever, and there it is--done." His wife directed a meaning glance towards his glass and smiled dryly. Hallam took up the challenge. "I think it is sometimes the woman who backs an outsider," he said. "But a light hand on the rein brings many a doubtful mount past the winning post." "You've got the fever all right," Jim returned. "I know all about that. I had it in its most acute form." "Never mind that old complaint," Rose said soothingly. "You are quite cured now." "That's all you know about it," he replied almost aggressively. "That fever is recurrent. Every married man who has ever experienced it knows that the germ once there lies latent for all time. You hear of married people drifting apart... Well, they do, you know--often; but generally they drift back again--or want to. It's usage. You get fed up--like you get fed up with saying your prayers every night."--Young John pricked up his ears and became interested in the talk.--"You leave 'em off. Well, some time or other you come back to them. You want to come back to them. Prayer and love--they're pretty much about on a par." John's interest waned. He helped himself to fruit and disregarded the company. "You are getting somewhat beyond my depths," the best man remarked. "These things haven't come my way." "They will," Jim ventured to predict. The best man looked at the bride and laughed. "I hope so," he answered gallantly; and introduced, with the ease of the man of the world, a lighter note into the talk. The entire party drove down to the jetty to see Hallam and his bride embark. When she stood on the steps and watched her sister seated beside Hallam in the bobbing launch, smiling and radiantly happy, Rose's former misgivings reasserted themselves and remained with her while she looked after the crowded launch steering its course towards the mail boat, which lay far out amid the ships on the sunlit blue of the sea. Hallam turned to the girl, when they were well away from the shore, with a look of glad relief, and saw her eyes, happy and loving and trustful, lifted to his in sympathetic understanding. He smiled down at her. "It's good to get off, to be alone together," he said. "The thought of this moment has kept me going. I believed we should never be through with it all." "I know," she said with a little laugh. "But it's over. We are together, Paul... for all our lives." "For all our lives," he repeated; and, oblivious of the crowd about them, pressed closer against her on the narrow seat. Book 3--CHAPTER TWENTY.