`Mrs. Fawley, I presume?' said Tinker Taylor with mock courtesy.
`Certainly. Mrs. Fawley again,' replied Arabella blandly, pulling off her glove and holding out her left hand. `There's the padlock, see.... Well, he was a very nice, gentlemanly man indeed. I mean the clergyman. He said to me as gentle as a babe when all was done: `Mrs. Fawley, I congratulate you heartily,' he says. `For having heard your history, and that of your husband, I think you have both done the right and proper thing. And for your past errors as a wife, and his as a husband, I think you ought now to be forgiven by the world, as you have forgiven each other,' says he. Yes: he was a very nice, gentlemanly man. `The Church don't recognize divorce in her dogma, strictly speaking,' he says: `and bear in mind the words of the service in your goings out and your comings in: What God hath joined together let no man put asunder.' Yes: he was a very nice, gentlemanly man.... But, Jude, my dear, you were enough to make a cat laugh! You walked that straight, and held yourself that steady, that one would have thought you were going 'prentice to a judge; though I knew you were seeing double all the time, from the way you fumbled with my finger.'
`I said I'd do anything to - save a woman's honour,' muttered Jude. `And I've done it!'
`Well now, old deary, come along and have some breakfast.'
`I want - some - more whisky,' said Jude stolidly.
`Nonsense, dear. Not now! There's no more left. The tea will take the muddle out of our heads, and we shall be as fresh as larks.'
`All right. I've - married you. She said I ought to marry you again, and I have straightway. It is true religion! Ha - ha - ha!'