Only one thing emerged with any reasonable clarity in her mind at once, and that was that unless she was saved from drowning by an unmarried man, in which case the ceremony is unavoidable, or totally destitute of under-clothing, and so driven to get a trousseau, in which hardship a trousseau would certainly be “ripping,” marriage was an experience to be strenuously evaded. ‘You are Mrs Ibstock, I think,’ she said eagerly. Wood turned to look at him. Far away there was the one woman for this boy of mine—some human being who would understand the dear fool better than all the rest of the world.
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