The fact lent her a sort of courage to persevere to the end, and she signed her maiden name for the last time with a numb confidence in the man whom she had, so to speak, bargained for as a husband in an emergency.
Curtis did not fail to note that the aged clergyman's handwriting was crabbed and palsied as his bent frame.

None could tell, for certain, whether he wrote "Jean" or "John," "Courtois" or "Curtis," though, indeed, the balance of probability inclined to the latter of the two names, Christian and surname, since those were indubitably what he meant to write.
Then, having stated his fee, and been paid for the ring, he handed Hermione a copy of the certificate.
"Treasure that during all your days, Mrs.Curtis," he said.

"May it be a charter of lasting happiness and content!" Mrs.Curtis! Another shock! Hermione felt that she would scream if there were many more such.

And the pressure of the little gold ring on the third finger of her left hand was becoming intolerable.

Iron, it used to be, said the minister, and a band of iron it seemed to have become since this man whom she had taken, so completely on trust had placed it there.
On the way out, Curtis tipped Jenkins, tipped him so lavishly that a queer little voice squeaked from a queer little face: "Thank you, sir.