She turned away from the doorway of the silk loom to observe. 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. Then came the javelin-men, walking four abreast, and lastly, a long line of constables, marching in the same order.
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