I won't have it.
I don't think you can be right in your mind.
It's dreadful.'
It was altogether too much for her and she burst into tears.
She knew that at her age it was fatal to cry, her eyes would be swollen for twenty-four hours and she would look a sight.
But there was no help for it.
She wept.
Jane remained perfectly calm.
She looked at Marion through her large spectacles and reflectively smoothed the lap of her black silk dress.
'You're going to be so dreadfully unhappy,' Mrs Tower sobbed, dabbing her eyes cautiously in the hope that the black on her lashes would not smudge.
'I don't think so, you know,' Jane answered in those equable, mild tones of hers, as if there were a little smile behind the words.
'We've talked it over very thoroughly.
I always think I'm a very easy person to live with.
I think I shall make Gilbert very happy and comfortable.
He's never had anyone to look after him properly.
We're only marrying after mature consideration.
And we've decided that if either of us wants his liberty the other will place no obstacles in the way of his getting it.'
Mrs Tower had by now recovered herself sufficiently to make a cutting remark.
'How much has he persuaded you to settle on him?'
'I wanted to settle a thousand a year on him, but he wouldn't hear of it.
He was quite upset when I made the suggestion.
He says he can earn quite enough for his own needs.'
'He's more cunning than I thought,' said Mrs Tower acidly.
Jane paused a little and looked at her sister-in-law with kindly, but resolute eyes.
'You see, my dear, it's different for you,' she said.
'You've never been so very much a widow, have you?'
Mrs Tower looked at her.
She blushed a little.
She even felt slightly uncomfortable.
But of course Jane was much too simple to intend an innuendo.
Mrs Tower gathered herself together with dignity.
'I'm so upset that I really must go to bed,' she said.
'We'll resume the conversation tomorrow morning.'
'I'm afraid that won't be very convenient, dear.
Gilbert and I are going to get the licence tomorrow morning.'
Mrs Tower threw up her hands in a gesture of dismay, but she found nothing more to say.
The marriage took place at a registrar's office.
Mrs Tower and I were the witnesses.
Gilbert in a smart blue suit looked absurdly young and he was obviously nervous.
It is a trying moment for any man.
But Jane kept her admirable composure.
She might have been in the habit of marrying as frequently as a woman of fashion.
Only a slight colour on her cheeks suggested that beneath her calm was some faint excitement.
It is a thrilling moment for any woman.
She wore a very full dress of silver grey velvet in the cut of which I recognized the hand of the dressmaker in Liverpool (evidently a widow of unimpeachable character), who had made her gowns for so many years; but she had so far succumbed to the frivolity of the occasion as to wear a large picture hat covered with blue ostrich feathers.
Her gold-rimmed spectacles made it extraordinarily grotesque.
When the ceremony was over the registrar (somewhat taken aback, I thought, by the difference of age between the pair he was marrying) shook hands with her, tendering his strictly official congratulations; and the bridegroom, blushing slightly, kissed her.
Mrs Tower, resigned but implacable, kissed her; and then the bride looked at me expectantly.
It was evidently fitting that I should kiss her too.
I did.