Mercifully the others were diverted by the journal. It was
seized from me, passed from hand to hand, the incredible words read
aloud by each in turn. They jested of it!
"Amazing chaps, your pressmen!" Thus the tenth Earl of Brinstead,
while I pinched myself viciously to bring back my lost aplomb. "Speedy
beggars, what, what! Never knew it myself till last night. She would
and she wouldn't."
"I think you knew," said the lady. Stricken as I was I noted that she
eyed him rather strangely, quite as if she felt some decent respect
for him.
"Marriage is serious," boomed the Mixer.
"Don't blame her, don't blame her--swear I don't!" returned his
lordship. "Few days to think it over--quite right, quite right. Got to
know their own minds, my word!"
While their attention was thus mercifully diverted from me, my own
world by painful degrees resumed its stability. I mean to say, I am
not the fainting sort, but if I were, then I should have keeled over
at my first sight of that journal. But now I merely recovered my glass
of champagne and drained it. Rather pigged it a bit, I fancy. Badly
needing a stimulant I was, to be sure.
They now discussed details: the ceremony--that sort of thing.
"Before a registrar, quickest way," said his lordship.
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