and disconcerting intrusion of a world I was already
beginning to criticise very bitterly, to me. What was all this fuss for?
The mere indecent advertisement that I had been passionately in love
with Marion! I think, however, that Marion was only very remotely aware
of my smouldering exasperation at having in the end behaved "nicely." I
had played--up to the extent of dressing my part; I had an admirably
cut frock--coat, a new silk hat, trousers as light as I could endure
them--lighter, in fact--a white waistcoat, night tie, light gloves.
Marion, seeing me despondent had the unusual enterprise to whisper to
me that I looked lovely; I knew too well I didn't look myself. I looked
like a special coloured supplement to Men's Wear, or The Tailor
and Cutter, Full Dress For Ceremonial Occasions. I had even the
disconcerting sensations of an unfamiliar collar. I felt lost--in
a strange body, and when I glanced down myself for reassurance, the
straight white abdomen, the alien legs confirmed that impression.

My uncle was my best man, and looked like a banker--a little banker--in
flower. He wore a white rose in his buttonhole. He wasn't, I think,
particularly talkative. At least I recall very little from him.

"George" he said once or twice, "this is a great occasion for you--a
very great occasion." He spoke a little doubtfully.

You see I had told him nothing about Marion until about a week before
the wedding; both he and my aunt had been taken altogether by surprise.
They couldn't, as people say, "make it out." My aunt was intensely
interested, much more than my uncle; it was then, I think, for the
first time that I really saw that she cared for me. She got me alone,
I remember, after I had made my announcement. "Now, George," she
said, "tell me everything about her. Why didn't you tell--ME at
least--before?"

I was surprised to find how difficult it was to tell her about Marion. I
perplexed her.

"Then is she beautiful?" she asked at last.

"I don't know what you'll think of her," I parried. "I think--"

"Yes?"

"I think she might be the most beautiful person in the world."

"And isn't she? To you?"

"Of course," I said, nodding my head. "Yes. She IS..."

And while I don't remember anything my uncle said or did at the
wedding, I do remember very distinctly certain little things, scrutiny,
solicitude, a curious rare flash of intimacy in my aunt's eyes. It
dawned on me that I wasn't hiding anything from her at all