Epithalamy might do. ‘Quite wrong, monsieur. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. The freezing water lapped around her ankles as she ran along its edge, marveling at the thousands of tiny white spiral shells the tide had brought in. Now I am sorry to cross you in anything you have set your heart upon, but I regret to say—” “H’m,” he reflected, and crossed out the last four words. ‘I don’t know that I dare. No one had the resources or the inclination to rebuild them. "Not a moment is to be lost," whispered Jonathan to Trenchard.
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