In the pews behind these family connections were the wedding guests of the more immediate neighbourhood, women of all ages attired in a variety of colours and a variety of hats, the men sporting here and there a buttonhole carnation. The Manserghs were there, and the Fuges, and Sir Cedric Goff, whose suit of plus-fours remained unpaid for. Surgeon Woulfe was there, and Miss de Ryal, and old Zeb Sykes, a clergyman who still did summer duty when a parish sent for him. Mrs Commodium squashed her neighbour into a corner of a pew; the agent at the Bank of Ireland sat more sedately, between his daughter and his wife. There were other people also, the remnants of old families whose genealogy was recorded in the mahogany filing-cabinets of Harbinson and Balt, the children of families that had more lately reached a social height not previously attained.

‘And therefore is not by any to be enterprised,’ the Bishop of Killaloe reminded his congregation with severity, ‘nor taken in hand unadvisedly, lightly or wantonly; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God.’

Mrs Rolleston prayed that even in these final moments something would go wrong. She prayed for a silence, in which her granddaughter would slowly turn her back on the altar and, with her glance fixed on some point in the church, solemnly descend the steps to the aisle, not speaking until she reached the font and lightly rested a hand on it. it is only decent to draw back,’ she prayed her granddaughter might murmur, quietly, though with a vigour that she believed could not be denied.

There is no reason, John James reflected as he stood there, why there shouldn’t be business to do from time to time in Dublin. It would not be difficult to pick up again the family association with Davison’s Hotel. The place would have retained its modest style; there was a cosiness, he recalled, about the polished hall; the waitresses in the small dining-room were pleasantly uniformed. You could sit for hours in the privacy of the smoking-room, with a whiskey and soda or chatting to a friend. There was no reason why he shouldn’t move the bank account to a city branch on the grounds that it would be better looked after by city clerks. The clothes sold in Lett’s Arcade left a bit to be desired. His leg might need to be examined from time to time by someone more expert on legs than a provincial doctor. While the Bishop’s voice continued, John James strolled down a Dublin street and then politely called out because a pretty woman in black had dropped a glove.

‘For be ye well assured, that so many as are coupled together otherwise than God’s Word doth allow are not joined together by God; neither is their Matrimony lawful.’