Getting Married By George Bernard Shaw 〈REAL - 2026〉

When it came time for the rings, Shaw fumbled. "A gold hoop," he muttered. "The smallest handcuff ever forged by man."

"You look remarkably like a prisoner waiting for the gaoler, George," Charlotte remarked, her eyes twinkling behind her spectacles. Getting Married by George Bernard Shaw

They entered the small, drab room where the Registrar waited. The official looked up, unimpressed by the tall, gangly Irishman. To the Registrar, Shaw was not the greatest playwright of the age; he was simply a man who hadn't brushed his coat. When it came time for the rings, Shaw fumbled

Charlotte laughed, pulling him toward the carriage. "Only five thousand, George? You’re getting soft in your old age." They entered the small, drab room where the Registrar waited

The ceremony was brisk. Shaw, true to form, attempted to interrupt the proceedings twice—once to question the phrasing of "lawful impediment" and again to suggest that the room’s ventilation was a crime against public health.

As they stepped back out onto the street, the London fog swirling around them, Charlotte took his arm.