“Certainly.  Now that I have given you due warning of the danger of implicitly relying on any individual opinion, I may give my opinion with a clear conscience.  I say that there has not been a positive marriage in this case.  There has been evidence in favor of possibly establishing a marriage—­nothing more.”

The distinction here was far too fine to be appreciated by Geoffrey’s mind.  He frowned heavily, in bewilderment and disgust.

“Not married!” he exclaimed, “when they said they were man and wife, before witnesses?”

“That is a common popular error,” said Sir Patrick.  “As I have already told you, witnesses are not legally necessary to make a marriage in Scotland.  They are only valuable—­as in this case—­to help, at some future time, in proving a marriage that is in dispute.”

Geoffrey caught at the last words.

“The landlady and the waiter might make it out to be a marriage, then?” he said.

“Yes.  And, remember, if you choose to apply to one of my professional colleagues, he might possibly tell you they were married already.  A state of the law which allows the interchange of matrimonial consent to be proved by inference leaves a wide door open to conjecture.  Your friend refers to a certain lady, in so many words, as his wife.  The lady refers to your friend, in so many words, as her husband.  In the rooms which they have taken, as man and wife, they remain, as man and wife, till the next morning.  Your friend goes away, without undeceiving any body.  The lady stays at the inn, for some days after, in the character of his wife.  And all these circumstances take place in the presence o f competent witnesses.  Logically—­if not legally—­there is apparently an inference of the interchange of matrimonial consent here.  I stick to my own opinion, nevertheless.  Evidence in proof of a marriage (I say)—­nothing more.”

While Sir Patrick had been speaking, Geoffrey had been considering with himself.  By dint of hard thinking he had found his way to a decisive question on his side.

“Look here!” he said, dropping his heavy hand down on the table.  “I want to bring you to book, Sir!  Suppose my friend had another lady in his eye?”

“Yes?”

“As things are now—­would you advise him to marry her?”

“As things are now—­certainly not!”

Geoffrey got briskly on his legs, and closed the interview.

“That will do,” he said, “for him and for me.”

With those words he walked back, without ceremony, into the main thoroughfare of the room.

“I don’t know who your friend is,” thought Sir Patrick, looking after him.  “But if your interest in the question of his marriage is an honest and a harmless interest, I know no more of human nature than the babe unborn!”

Immediately on leaving Sir Patrick, Geoffrey was encountered by one of the servants in search of him.

“I beg your pardon, Sir,” began the man.  “The groom from the Honorable Mr. Delamayn’s—­”