"I want to go out with you to Ireland.

But for a time--I think the Three would have us remain and set that place in order." The O'Keefe was bothered about something else than the government of Muria.
"If they've killed off all the priests, who's to marry us, heart of mine ?" he worried.

"None of those Siya and Siyana rites, no matter what," he added hastily.
"Marry!" cried the handmaiden incredulously.

"Marry us?
Why, Larry dear, we _are_ married!" The O'Keefe's astonishment was complete; his jaw dropped; collapse seemed imminent.
"We are ?" he gasped.

"When ?" he stammered fatuously.
"Why, when the Mother drew us together before her; when she put her hands on our heads after we had made the promise! Didn't you understand that ?" asked the handmaiden wonderingly.
He looked at her, into the purity of the clear golden eyes, into the purity of the soul that gazed out of them; all his own great love transfiguring his keen face.
"An' is that enough for you, _mavourneen_ ?" he whispered humbly.
"Enough ?" The handmaiden's puzzlement was complete, profound.
"Enough?
Larry darlin', what _more_ could we ask ?" He drew a deep breath, clasped her close.
"Kiss the bride, Doc!" cried the O'Keefe.