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bridesmaids got together over dinner and fell into eager conjecture about the intimacies of the honeymoon, the odds in this case being three to two that the ceremony had not been anticipated. The Great Western express rattled through the sodden English counties. Tom and Angela sat glumly in a first-class smoking carriage, discussing the day.
      "It was so wonderful neither of us being late."
      "Mother fussed so ..."
      "I didn't see John, did you?"
      "He was there. He said good-bye to us in the hall."
      "Oh, yes ... I hope they've packed everything."
      "What books did you bring?"
      A thoroughly normal, uneventful wedding.
      Presently Tom said: "I suppose in a way it's rather unenterprising of us, just going off to Aunt Martha's house in Devon. Remember how the Lockwoods went to Morocco and got captured by brigands?"
      "And the Randalls got snowed up for ten days in Norway."
      "We shan't get much adventure in Devon, I'm afraid."
      "Well, Tom, we haven't really married for adventure, have we?"
      And, as things happened, it was from that moment onwards that the honeymoon took an odd turn.
     
      II
     
      "D'you know if we change?"
      "I rather think we do. I forgot to ask. Peter got the tickets. I'll get out at Exeter and find out."
      The train drew into the station.
      "Shan't be a minute," said Tom, shutting the door behind him to keep out the cold. He walked up the platform, purchased a West country evening paper, learned that they need not change and was returning to his carriage when his arm was seized and a voice said:
      "Hello, Watch, old man! Remember me?" And with a little difficulty he recognized the smiling face of an old school acquaintance. "See you've just got married. Congratulations. Meant to write. Great luck running into you like this. Come and have a drink."
      "Wish I could. Got to get back to the train."
      "Heaps of time, old man. Waits twelve minutes here. Must have a drink."
      Still searching his memory for the name of his old friend, Tom went with him to the station buffet.
      "I live fifteen miles out, you know. Just come in to meet the train. Expecting some cow-cake down from London. No sign of it ... Well, all the best."
      They drank two glasses of whisky—very comforting after the cold train journey. Then Tom said:
      "Well, it's been jolly seeing you. I must get back to the train now. Come with me and meet my wife."
      But when they reached the platform, the train was gone.
      "I say, old man, that's darned funny, you know. What are you going to do? There's not another train tonight. Tell you what, you'd better come and spend the night with me and go on in the morning. We can wire and tell your wife where you are."
      "I suppose Angela will be all right?"
      "Heavens, yes! Nothing can happen in England. Besides, there's nothing you can do. Give me her address and I'll send a wire now, telling her where you are. Jump into the car and wait."
      Next morning Tom woke up with a feeling of slight apprehension. He turned over in bed, examining with sleepy eyes the unaccustomed furniture of the room. Then he remembered. Of course he was married. And Angela had gone off in the train, and he had driven for miles in the dark to the house of an old friend whose name he could not remember. It had been dinnertime when they arrived. They had drunk Burgundy and port and brandy. Frankly, they had drunk rather a lot. They had recalled numerous house scandals, all kinds of jolly insults to chemistry masters, escapades after dark when they had gone up to London to the "43." What was the fellow's name? It was clearly too late to ask him now. And anyway he would have to get on to Angela. He supposed that she had reached Aunt Martha's house safely and had got his telegram. Awkward beginning to the honeymoon—but then he and Angela knew each other so well ... It was not as though this were some sudden romance.
      Presently he was called. "Hounds