his rostrum; it seemed he had been chosen for his beauty.
Shelton was still gazing at the stitching of his gloves, when once again
the organ played the Wedding March. All were smiling, and a few were
weeping, craning their heads towards the bride. "Carnival of second-hand
emotions!" thought Shelton; and he, too, craned his head and brushed his
hat. Then, smirking at his friends, he made his way towards the door.

In the Casserols' house he found himself at last going round the
presents with the eldest Casserol surviving, a tall girl in pale violet,
who had been chief bridesmaid.

"Did n't it go off well, Mr. Shelton?" she was saying

"Oh, awfully!"

"I always think it's so awkward for the man waiting up there for the
bride to come."

"Yes," murmured Shelton.

"Don't you think it's smart, the bridesmaids having no hats?"

Shelton had not noticed this improvement, but he agreed.

"That was my idea; I think it 's very chic. They 've had fifteen
tea-sets-so dull, is n't it?"

"By Jove!" Shelton hastened to remark.

"Oh, its fearfully useful to have a lot of things you don't want; of
course, you change them for those you do."

The whole of London seemed to have disgorged its shops into this room;
he looked at Miss Casserol's face, and was greatly struck by the shrewd
acquisitiveness of her small eyes.

"Is that your future brother-in-law?" she asked, pointing to Bill
Dennant with a little movement of her chin; "I think he's such a bright
boy. I want you both to come to dinner, and help to keep things jolly.
It's so deadly after a wedding."

And Shelton said they would.

They adjourned to the hall now, to wait for the bride's departure. Her
face as she came down the stairs was impassive, gay, with a furtive
trouble in the eyes, and once more Shelton had the odd sensation of
having sinned against his manhood. Jammed close to him was her old
nurse, whose puffy, yellow face was pouting with emotion, while tears
rolled from her eyes. She was trying to say something, but in the hubbub
her farewell was lost. There was a scamper to the carriage, a flurry
of rice and flowers; the shoe was flung against the sharply drawn-up
window. Then Benjy's shaven face was seen a moment, bland and steely;
the footman folded his arms, and with a solemn crunch the brougham
wheels rolled away. "How splendidly it went off!" said a voice on
Shelton's right. "She looked a little pale," said a voice on Shelton's
left. He put his hand u