'
Jane promised to come. On the next day, Saturday, Clem entered the
registry-office in a plain dress, and after a few simple formalities
came forth as Mrs. Snowdon; her usual high colour was a trifle
diminished, and she kept glancing at her husband from under
nervously knitted brows. Still the great event was unknown to the
inhabitants of the Close. There was no feasting, and no
wedding-journey; for the present Mr. and Mrs. Snowdon would take
possession of two rooms on the first floor.
Twenty-four hours later, when the bells of St. James's were ringing
their melodies before service, Clem requested her husband's
attention to something of importance she had to tell him.
Mr. Snowdon had just finished breakfast and was on the point of
lighting his pipe; with the match burning down to his fingers, he
turned and regarded the speaker shrewdly. Clem's face put it beyond
question that at last she was about to make a statement definitely
bearing on the history of the past month. At this moment she was
almost pale, and her eyes avoided his. She stood close to the table,
and her right hand rested near the bread-knife; her left held a
piece of paper.
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