He had come out to get one.

But where were they to be obtained?
In a properly civilized country, doubtless they would be sold in shops, like boots and hair-brushes, or even in post-offices, like dog licenses.

But Septimus, aware of the deficiencies of an incomplete social organization, could do no better than look wistfully up and down the stream of traffic, as it roared and flashed and lumbered past.

A policeman stopped beside him.
He appeared so lost, he met the man's eyes with a gaze so questioning, that the policeman paused.
"Want to go anywhere, sir ?" "Yes," said Septimus.

"I want to go where I can get a special license to be married." "Don't you know ?" "No.