weddings were an afternoon's distraction, like the matinees of the richer,
stared about the building. Mrs Yabsley, wedged with difficulty in the
narrow pew, pretended that they were made uncomfortable on purpose to keep
people awake during the sermon. Presently Ada and Pinkey, who had been
examining the memorial tablets on the walls, began to argue whether the
dead people were buried under the floor of the church. Pinkey decided
they were, and shivered at the thought. Ada called her a fool; they
nearly quarrelled.

When their turn came, the Canon advanced to meet them, setting them at
their ease with a few kindly words, less a priest than a courteous host
welcoming his guests. He seemed not to notice Jonah's deformity. But,
as he read the service, he was the priest again, solemn and austere,
standing at the gates of Life and Death. He followed the ritual with
scrupulous detail, scorning to give short measure to the poor. In the
vestry they signed their names with tremendous effort, holding the pen as
if it were a prop. Mrs Yabsley, being no scholar, made a mark. The Canon
left them with an apology, as another party was waiting.

"Rum old card," commented Chook, when they got outside. "I reckon 'e's
a man w'en 'e tucks 'is shirt in."

The party decided to go home by way of Regent Street, drawn by the sight
of the jostling crowd and the glitter of the lamps. As they threaded
their way through the crowd, Jonah stopped in front of a pawnshop and
announced that he was going to buy a present for Ada and Pinkey to bring
them luck. He ignored Ada's cries of admiration at the sight of a large
brooch set with paste diamonds, and fixed on a thin silver bracelet for
her, and a necklace of imitation pearls, the size of peas, for Pinkey.
Ada thrust her fat fingers through the rigid band of metal; it slipped