the noon sun
As we grouped ourselves there and Tip pulled a tiny book from his pocket I recollected this stranger 's face -- it was the telegraph operator ! Roger , who forgot nothing , had brought him over for the other witness . `` Dearly beloved , '' said Tip in a clear , deep voice , and I woke with a start and realised that old Roger was being married . Margarita , in her graceful , faded blue gown , gazed curiously at him , one hand in Roger 's ; the noon sun streamed down on us from a cloudless , turquoise sky ; the little waves ran up the points of rocks , broke , and fell away musically . To appreciate those quaint sentences of the marriage service , you must hear them out under the heavens , alone , with no bridesmaids , no voice that breathed o'er Eden , no flowers but the great handful of flaming nasturtiums Roger had put in her hands -LRB- no maiden lilies grew on that rock ! -RRB- and a quiet man dressed just as other men are dressed , with only the consciousness of his calling to separate him from the rest of us . They held their own , those quaint old phrases , I assure you !