If this meant anything, it meant that she was actually going to marry Herbert Linley again.  This was too ridiculous.  “If it’s a joke,” I said, “I have heard better fun in my time.  If it’s only an assertion, I don’t believe it.”

“Why not?” Randal asked.

“Saying I do want you, in one breath—­and I don’t want you, in another—­seems to be a little hard on Divorce,” I ventured to suggest.

“Don’t expect me to sympathize with Divorce,” Randal said.

I answered that smartly.  “No; I’ll wait till you are married.”

He took it seriously.  “Don’t misunderstand me,” he replied.  “Where there is absolute cruelty, or where there is deliberate desertion, on the husband’s part, I see the use and the reason for Divorce.  If the unhappy wife can find an honorable man who will protect her, or an honorable man who will offer her a home, Society and Law, which are responsible for the institution of marriage, are bound to allow a woman outraged under the shelter of their institution to marry again.  But, where the husband’s fault is sexual frailty, I say the English law which refuses Divorce on that ground alone is right, and the Scotch law which grants it is wrong.  Religion, which rightly condemns the sin, pardons it on the condition of true penitence.  Why is a wife not to pardon it for the same reason?  Why are the lives of a father, a mother, and a child to be wrecked, when those lives may be saved by the exercise of the first of Christian virtues—­forgiveness of injuries?  In such a case as this I regret that Divorce exists; and I rejoice when husband and wife and child are one flesh again, re-united by the law of Nature, which is the law of God.”

I might have disputed with him; but I thought he was right.  I also wanted to make sure of the facts.  “Am I really to understand,” I asked, “that Mr. Herbert Linley is to be this lady’s husband for the second time?”

“If there is no lawful objection to it,” Randal said—­“decidedly Yes.”

My good wife, in all your experience you never saw your husband stare as he stared at that moment.  Here was a lady divorced by her own lawful desire and at her own personal expense, thinking better of it after no very long interval, and proposing to marry the man again.  Was there ever anything so grossly improbable?  Where is the novelist who would be bold enough to invent such an incident as this?

Never mind the novelist.  How did it end?

Of course it could only end in one way, so far as I was concerned.  The case being without precedent in my experience, I dropped my professional character at the outset.  Speaking next as a friend, I had only to say to Mrs. Norman:  “The Law has declared you and Mr. Herbert Linley to be single people.  Do what other single people do.  Buy a license, and give notice at a church—­and by all means send wedding cards to the judge who divorced you.”

Said; and, in another fortnight, done.  Mr. and Mrs. Herbert Linley were married again this morning; and Randal and I were the only witnesses present at the ceremony, which was strictly private.