w rapidly cooling, and a milky surface
resembling thin ice was forming on the contents of his coffee-cup. And
meanwhile he read.

The column he was reading described the wedding of his uncle with Miss
Jenny Launton, and journalese surpassed itself. There was a great deal
about the fine old English appearance of the bridegroom, who, it
appeared, had been married in a black frock-coat and gray trousers, with
white spats, and who had worn a chrysanthemum in his button-hole (Dick
cast an almost venomous glance upon the lovely blossom just beside the
paper), and the beautiful youthful dignity of the bride, "so popular
among the humble denizens of the country-side." The bride's father, it
seemed, had officiated at the wedding in the "sturdy old church," and
had been greatly affected--assisted by the Rev. Matthieson. The wedding,
it seemed, had been unusually quiet, and had been celebrated by special
license: few of the family had been present, "owing," said the discreet
reporter, "to the express wish of the bridegroom." (Dick reflected
sardonically upon his own convenient attack of influenza from which he
was now completely recovered.) Then there was a great deal more about
the ancient home of the Guiseleys, and the aristocratic appearance of
Viscount Merefield, the young and popular heir to the earldom, who, it
appeared, had assisted at the wedding in another black frock-coat.
General Mainwaring had acted as best man. Finally, there was a short
description of the presents of the bridegroom to the bride, which
included a set of amethysts, etc....

* * * * *

Dick read it all through to the luxuriant end, down to the peals of the
bells and the rejoicings in the evening. He ate several pieces of dry
toast while he read, crumbling them quickly with his left hand, and when
he had finished, drank his coffee straight off at one draught. Then he
got up, still with the paper, sat down in the easy-chair nearest to the
fire and read the whole thing through once more. Then he pushed the
paper off his knee and leaned back.

* * * * *

It would need a complete psychological treatise to analyze properly all
the emotions he had recently gone through--emotions which had been, so
to say, developed and "fixed" by the newspaper column he had just read.
He was a man who was accustomed to pride himself secretly upon the speed
with which he faced each new turn of fortune, and the c