"A late visit, but always welcome," said the rector. "Sorry I kept you waiting, but I was en deshabille. "What can I do for you now, eh?"
Judith was composed, she had formed her resolution.
She said, "You married me this morning when I was unconscious. I answered but one of your questions. Will you get your prayer-book and I will make my responses to all those questions you put to me when I was in a dead faint."
"Oh, not necessary. Sign the register and it is all right. Silence gives consent, you know."
"I wish it otherwise, particularly, and then you can judge for yourself whether silence gives consent."
Mr. Desiderius Mules ran back into his study, pulled a whiff at his pipe to prevent the fire from going out, moistened his untempered clay with brandy and water, and came back again with a Book of Common Prayer.
"Here we are," said he. " 'Wilt thou have this man’ and so on—you answered to that, I believe. Then comes 'I, Judith, take thee, Curll, to my wedded husband'—you were indistinct over that, I believe."
"I remember nothing about it. Now I will say distinctly my meaning. I will not take Curll Coppinger to my wedded husband, and thereto I will never give my troth—so help me, God."
"Goodness gracious!" exclaimed the rector. "You put me in a queer position. I married you, and you can't undo what is done. You have the ring on your finger."
"No, here it is. I return it."
"I refuse to take it. I have nothing whatever to do with the ring. Captain Coppinger put it on your hand."
"When I was unconscious."
"But am I to be choused out of my fee—as out of other things?"
"You shall have your fee. Do not concern yourself about that. I refuse to consider myself married. I refuse to sign the register, no man shall force me to it, and if it comes to law, here are witnesses, you yourself are a witness, that I was unconscious when you married me."
"I shall get into trouble! This is a very unpleasant state of affairs."
"It is more unpleasant for me than for you," said Judith.
