Mr. Wilks cleared his throat and turned an agonized eye on Mr. Nugent.  He would have liked to have asked why Mrs. Silk should think it necessary to inform him, but the fear of precipitating a crisis stayed his tongue.

“What I’m to do, I don’t know,” continued Mrs. Silk, feebly.  You can’t ’ave two queens in one ’ouse, so to speak.”

“But she was walking out with Teddy long ago,” urged Mr. Wilks.  “It’s no worse now than then.”

“But I wouldn’t be married by license,” said Mrs. Silk, deftly ignoring the remark.  “If I can’t be asked in church in the proper way I won’t be married at all.”

“Quite right,” said Mr. Nugent; “there’s something so sudden about a license,” he added, with feeling.

“Me and Mr. Wilks was talking about marriage only the other day,” pursued Mrs. Silk, with a bashfulness which set every nerve in the steward’s body quivering, “and we both agreed that banns was the proper way.

“You was talking about it,” corrected Mr. Wilks, in a hoarse voice.  “You brought up the subject and I agreed with you—­not that it matters to me ’ow people get married.  That’s their affair.  Banns or license, it’s all one to me.”

“I won’t be married by license,” said Mrs. Silk, with sudden petulance; “leastways, I’d rather not be,” she added, softening.

Mr. Wilks took his handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose violently.  Mrs. Silk’s methods of attack left him little opportunity for the plain speaking which was necessary to dispel illusions.  He turned a watery, appealing eye on to Mr. Nugent, and saw to his surprise that that gentleman was winking at him with great significance and persistence.  It would have needed a heart of stone to have been unaffected by such misery, and to-night Mr. Nugent, thankful for his own escape, was in a singularly merciful mood.

“All this sounds as though you are going to be married,” he said, turning to Mrs. Silk with a polite smile.

The widow simpered and looked down, thereby affording Mr. Nugent an opportunity of another signal to the perturbed steward, who sat with such a look of anxiety on his face lest he should miss his cue that the young man’s composure was tried to the utmost.

“It’s been a understood thing for a long time,” she said, slowly, “but I couldn’t leave my son while ’e was single and nobody to look after ’im.  A good mother makes a good wife, so they say.  A woman can’t always ’ave ’er own way in everything, and if it’s not to be by banns, then by license it must be, I suppose.”

“Well, he’ll be a fortunate man, whoever he is,” said Mr. Nugent, with another warning glance at Mr. Wilks; “and I only hope that he’ll make a better husband than you do, Sam,” he added, in a low but severe voice.

Mrs. Silk gave a violent start.  “Better husband than ’e does?” she cried, sharply.  “Mr. Wilks ain’t married.”

Mr. Nugent’s baseless charge took the steward all aback.  He stiffened in his chair, a picture of consternation, and guilt appeared stamped on every feature; but he had the presence of mind to look to Mr. Nugent’s eye for guidance and sufficient strength of character to accept this last bid for liberty.