The little old gentleman was business-like but kindly.  They made their vows to him, to a little black-bearded clerk and a lady who took off an apron in the nether part of the building to attend.  The little old gentleman made no long speeches.  “You are young people,” he said slowly, “and life together is a difficult thing....  Be kind to each other.”  He smiled a little sadly, and held out a friendly hand.

Ethel’s eyes glistened and she found she could not speak.

CHAPTER XXI.

HOME!

Then a furtive payment of witnesses, and Lewisham was beside her.  His face was radiant.  A steady current of workers going home to their half-holiday rest poured along the street.  On the steps before them lay a few grains of rice from some more public nuptials.

A critical little girl eyed our couple curiously and made some remark to her ragamuffin friend.

“Not them,” said the ragamuffin friend, “They’ve only been askin’ questions.”

The ragamuffin friend was no judge of faces.

They walked back through the thronged streets to Vauxhall station, saying little to one another, and there Lewisham, assuming as indifferent a manner as he could command, recovered their possessions from the booking-office by means of two separate tickets and put them aboard a four-wheeler.  His luggage went outside, but the little brown portmanteau containing Ethel’s trousseau was small enough to go on the seat in front of them.  You must figure a rather broken-down four-wheeler bearing the yellow-painted box and the experienced trunk and Mr. Lewisham and all his fortunes, a despondent fitful horse, and a threadbare venerable driver, blasphemous sotto voce and flagellant, in an ancient coat with capes.  When our two young people found themselves in the cab again a certain stiffness of manner between them vanished and there was more squeezing of hands.  “Ethel Lewisham,” said Lewisham several times, and Ethel reciprocated with “Husbinder” and “Hubby dear,” and took off her glove to look again in an ostentatious manner at a ring.  And she kissed the ring.

They were resolved that their newly-married state should not appear, and with considerable ceremony it was arranged that he should treat her with off-hand brusqueness when they arrived at their lodging.  The Teutonic landlady appeared in the passage with an amiable smile and the hope that they had had a pleasant journey, and became voluble with promises of comfort.  Lewisham having assisted the slatternly general servant to carry in his boxes, paid the cabman a florin in a resolute manner and followed the ladies into the sitting-room.

Ethel answered Madam Gadow’s inquiries with admirable self-possession, followed her through the folding-doors and displayed an intelligent interest in a new spring mattress.  Presently the folding-doors were closed again.  Lewisham hovered about the front room pulling his moustache and pretending to admire the oleographs, surprised to find himself trembling....