Claire was still too young to marry, and to himself kept the fact
that to remarry he was in no haste. In his mind doubts still
lingered. With a wife, young enough to be one of his children,
disorganizing, the routine of his villa, would it be any more
comfortable than he now found it? Would his eldest daughter and her
stepmother dwell together in harmony? The eldest daughter had
assured him that so far as she was concerned they would not; and,
after all, in marrying a girl, no matter how charming, without a
dot, and the daughter of a boarding-house keeper, no matter how
respectable, was he not disposing of himself too cheaply? These
doubts assailed Papa Paillard; these speculations were in his mind.
And while he speculated Billy acted.

"I know that in France," Billy assured Claire, "marriages are
arranged by the parents; but in my country they are arranged in
heaven. And who are we to disregard the edicts of heaven? Ages and
ages ago, before the flood, before Napoleon, even before old
Paillard with his four children, it was arranged in heaven that you
were to marry me. So, what little plans your good mother may make
don't cut enough ice to cool a green mint. Now, we can't try to get
married here," continued Billy, "without your mother and Paillard
knowing it. In this town as many people have to sign the marriage,
contract as signed our Declaration of Independence: all the civil
authorities, all the clergy, all the relatives; if every man in the
telephone book isn't a witness, the marriage doesn't 'take.' So, we
must elope!"

Having been brought up in a convent, where she was taught to obey
her mother and forbidden to think of marriage, Claire was naturally
delighted with the idea of an elopement.