I confess that I felt a little shy as we walked out of the registrar's office past loungers who waited cynically to see the bridal pairs, and it was with relief that I stepped into Mrs Tower's car.
We drove to Victoria Station, for the happy couple were to go over to Paris by the two o'clock train, and Jane had insisted that the wedding-breakfast should be eaten at the station restaurant.
She said it always made her nervous not to be on the platform in good time.
Mrs Tower, present only from a strong sense of family duty, was able to do little to make the party go off well; she ate nothing (for which I could not blame her, since the food was execrable, and anyway I hate champagne at luncheon) and talked in a strained voice.
But Jane went through the menu conscientiously.
'I always think one should make a hearty meal before starting out on a journey,' she said.
We saw them off, and I drove Mrs Tower back to her house.
'How long do you give it?' she said.
'Six months?'
'Let's hope for the best,' I smiled.
'Don't be so absurd.
There can be no best.
You don't think he's marrying her for anything but her money, do you?
Of course it can't last.
My only hope is that she won't have to go through as much suffering as she deserves.'
I laughed.
The charitable words were spoken in such a tone as to leave me in small doubt of Mrs Tower's meaning.
'Well, if it doesn't last you'll have the consolation of saying: I told you so,' I said.
'I promise you I'll never do that.'
'Then you'll have the satisfaction of congratulating yourself on your self-control in not saying: I told you so.'
'She's old and dowdy and dull.'
'Are you sure she's dull?' I said.
'It's true she doesn't say very much, but when she says anything it's very much to the point.'
'I've never heard her make a joke in my life.'
I was once more in the Far East when Gilbert and Jane returned from their honeymoon and this time I remained away for nearly two years.
Mrs Tower was a bad correspondent and though I sent her an occasional picture-postcard I received no news from her.
But I met her within a week of my return to London; I was dining out and found that I was seated next to her.
It was an immense party, I think we were four-and-twenty like the blackbirds in the pie, arriving somewhat late, I was too confused by the crowd in which I found myself to notice who was there.
But when we sat down, looking round the long table I saw that a good many of my fellow-guests were well known to the public from their photographs in the illustrated papers.
Our hostess had a weakness for the persons technically known as celebrities and this was an unusually brilliant gathering.
When Mrs Tower and I had exchanged the conventional remarks that two people make when they have not seen one another for a couple of years I asked about Jane.
'She's very well,' said Mrs Tower with a certain dryness.
'How has the marriage turned out?'
Mrs Tower paused a little and took a salted almond from the dish in front of her.
'It appears to be quite a success.'
'You were wrong then?'
'I said it wouldn't last and I still say it won't last.
It's contrary to human nature.'
'Is she happy?'
'They're both happy.'
'I suppose you don't see very much of them.'
'At first I saw quite a lot of them.
But now ...' Mrs Tower pursed her lips a little.
'Jane is becoming very grand.'
'What do you mean?' I laughed.
'I think I should tell you that she's here tonight.'
'Here?'
I was startled.
I looked round the table again.
Our hostess was a delightful and an entertaining woman, but I could not imagine that she would be likely to invite to a dinner such as this the elderly and dowdy wife of an obscure architect.