"Wot other arryngements? I ain't made no other arryngements," said Ermyntrude sharply. "Is 'e goin' ter marry me, or isn't he? That's wot I've come to 'ear."
Hilary Vance gasped enormously and began, "I wouldn't—"
"You shut up!" snapped Mr. James, cutting him short; and he turned to Ermyntrude and added suavely, "Mr. Vance is not going to marry you."
"Wot about my 'eart?" said Ermyntrude in a moaning voice; and she pressed her handkerchief to her quite dry eyes.
"It's his art that has to be considered," said Mr. James. "He has decided that marriage would not foster it. It is a celibate art. Therefore he can not marry you."
"But 'e's got to marry me! 'E promised to; an' 'e shall! 'E's not goin' to plye fast an' loose wiv me! The lor is the lor!" cried Ermyntrude fiercely, abandoning utterly the suppliant pose.
"That's where you're wrong, I fear. The law is whatever we choose to pay for it. But anyhow the law doesn't allow you to commit bigamy," said Mr. James.
