"Well, we must do _something_ about them."
"Yes. My solicitor--he shall do something about them. Don't let's talk about them now. I've only got three hours more with you, and then I must dash back to my work."
I must say that any mention of fixtures has always bored me intensely.
When it was a matter of getting a house to live in I was all energy. As soon as Celia had found it, I put my solicitor on to it; and within a month I had signed my name in two places, and was the owner of a highly residential flat in the best part of the neighbourhood. But my effort so exhausted me that I have felt utterly unable since to cope with the question of the curtain-rod in the bathroom or whatever it is that Celia means by fixtures. These things will arrange themselves somehow, I feel confident.
Meanwhile the decorators are hard at work. A thrill of pride inflates me when I think of the decorators at work. I don't know how they got there; I suppose I must have ordered them. Celia says that _she_ ordered them and chose all the papers herself, and that all I did was to say that the papers she had chosen were very pretty; but this doesn't sound like me in the least. I am convinced that I was the man of action when it came to ordering decorators.
"And now," said Celia one day, "we can go and choose the electric-light fittings."
"Celia," I said in admiration, "you're a wonderful person. I should have forgotten all about them."
"Why, they're about the most important thing in the flat."
"Somehow I never regarded anybody as choosing them. I thought they just grew in the wall. From bulbs."
When we got into the shop Celia became businesslike at once.
"We'd better start with the hall," she told the man.
"Everybody else will have to," I said, "so we may as well."
"What sort of a light did you want there?" he asked.
"A strong one," I said; "so as to be able to watch our guests carefully when they pass the umbrella-stand."
Celia waved me away and explained that we wanted a hanging lantern. It appeared that this shop made a speciality not so much of the voltage as of the lamps enclosing it.
"How do you like that?" asked the man, pointing to a magnificent affair in brass. He wandered off to a switch, and turned it on.
"Dare you ask him the price?" I asked Celia. "It looks to me about a thousand pounds. If it is, say that you don't like the style. Don't let him think we can't afford it."
"Yes," said Celia, in a careless sort of way. "I'm not sure that I care about that. How much is it?"
"Two pounds."
I was not going to show my relief. "Without the light, of course?" I said disparagingly.
"How do you think it would look in the hall?" said Celia to me.
"I think our guests would be encouraged to proceed. They'd see that we were pretty good people."
"I don't like it. It's too ornate."
"Then show us something less ornate," I told the man sternly.
He showed us things less ornate. At the end of an hour Celia said she thought we'd better get on to another room, and come back to the hall afterwards. We decided to proceed to the drawing-room.
"We must go all out over these," said Celia; "I want these to be really beautiful."
At the end of another hour Celia said she thought we'd better get on to my workroom. My workroom, as the name implies, is the room to which I am to retire when I want complete quiet. Sometimes I shall go there after lunch ... and have it.
"We can come back to the drawing-room afterwards," she said. "It's really very important that we should get the right ones for that. Your room won't be so difficult, but, of course, you must have awfully nice ones."
I looked at my watch.
"It's a quarter to one," I said. "At 2.15 on the seventeenth of June we are due at St. Miriam's. If you think we shall have bought anything by then, let's go on. If, as seems to me, there is no hope at all, then let's have lunch to-day anyhow. After lunch we may be able to find some way out of the _impasse_."
After lunch I had an idea.
"This afternoon," I said, "we will begin to get some furniture together."
"But what about the electric fittings? We must finish off those."
"This is an experiment. I want to see if we can buy a chest of drawers.
It may just be our day for it."
"And we settle the fittings to-morrow. Yes?"
"I don't know. We may not want them. It all depends on whether we can buy a chest of drawers this afternoon. If we can't, then I don't see how we can ever be married on the seventeenth of June. Somebody's got to be, because I've engaged the church. The question is whether it's going to be us. Let's go and buy a chest of drawers this afternoon, and see."
The old gentleman in the little shop Celia knew of was delighted to see us.
"Chestesses? Ah, you _'ave_ come to the right place." He led the way into the depths. "There now. There's a chest--real old, that is." He gave it a hearty smack. "You don't see a chest like that nowadays. They can't _make_ 'em. Three pound ten. You couldn't have got that to-morrer.
I'd have sold it for four pound to-morrer."
"I knew it was our day," I said.
"Real old, that is. Spanish me'ogany, all oak lined. That's right, sir, pull the drawers out and see for yourself. Let the lady see. There's no imitation there, lady. A real old chest, that is. Come in 'ere in a week and you'd have to pay five pounds for it. Me'ogany's going up, you see, that's how."
"Well?" I said to Celia.
"It's perfectly sweet. Hadn't we better see some more?"
We saw two more. Both of them Spanish me'ogany, oak lined, pull-the-drawers-out-and-see-for-yourself-lady. Half an hour passed rapidly.
"Well?" I said.
"I really don't know which I like best. Which do you?"
"The first; it's nearer the door."
"There's another shop just over the way. We'd better just look there too, and then we can come back to decide to-morrow."
We went out. I glanced at my watch. It was 3.30, and we were being married at 2.15 on the seventeenth of June.
"Wait a moment," I said, "I've forgotten my gloves."