I think Augustus must have gone straight to the Altar!'
As such a thing was possible, and the church was close at hand, Mr
Jinkins ran off to see, accompanied by Mr George Chuzzlewit the bachelor
cousin, who preferred anything to the aggravation of sitting near the
breakfast, without being able to eat it. But they came back with no
other tidings than a familiar message from the clerk, importing that if
they wanted to be married that morning they had better look sharp, as
the curate wasn't going to wait there all day.
The bride was now alarmed; seriously alarmed. Good Heavens, what could
have happened! Augustus! Dear Augustus!
Mr Jinkins volunteered to take a cab, and seek him at the
newly-furnished house. The strong-minded woman administered comfort to
Miss Pecksniff. 'It was a specimen of what she had to expect. It would
do her good. It would dispel the romance of the affair.' The red-nosed
daughters also administered the kindest comfort. 'Perhaps he'd come,'
they said. The sketchy nephew hinted that he might have fallen off a
bridge. The wrath of Mr Spottletoe resisted all the entreaties of his
wife.
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