"Rodney, do try to be sensible! You're a man, and you can't understand."
"To a girl her wedding day is the day of her life."
"Some girls manage to have several wedding days, so I suppose they have two or three days in their lives."
"There will be only one wedding day in my life. Whatever happens I want that to be, in every sense, a wonderful day; I want mine to be a pretty wedding."
"A really pretty wedding can't be arranged at a moment's notice; it takes time."
"Don't be so silly! Mamma's coming up to town to-morrow. I'll consult her; then I shall have some idea how long a time it will take."
"You mean how short a time! Do mean how short a time!"
"Well, how short a time. Rodney, how many bridesmaids would you like me to have?"
"Bridesmaids? My dear! What are bridesmaids to me, so long as I've the bride? All--all--all I'm going to be married to is the bride!"
"I always wondered what there was in a kiss to make a fuss about. Now--I know."
When he left it had been practically settled that the wedding should take place on the earliest possible day of the ensuing month.
He walked home, by way of Kensington High Street and the Park. And as he walked he mused, and more than once his musings moved him to something very much like laughter, out there in the solitude and the dark. Was ever man before in such a complication--promised at three weddings as bridegroom? As he tried to puzzle out how it all had come about it struck him as quite inconceivably comical. If he told the story to the ladies themselves they could scarcely fail to see how funny it was--at least, he hoped they would. The position would be simple enough if, as is still the custom in some of the more civilised countries of the world, a man could have wives galore. But if it came to choosing, why, there would be the rub. Mabel had her points; who knew it better than he? While as for Stella, he had never dreamed she was so charming. With her kisses still on his lips, her soft voice still in his ears, her pretty eyes still looking into his, how could he help but love her! Dear little Stella! A week all alone with her, even a fortnight--he would like to have the chance of it. Perhaps, after a fortnight, a little relaxation might be desirable, a sort of change of air. But why look so far ahead? Then there was Mary--but he dare not think of Mary Carmichael, even then. If he had ten thousand a year, and freedom, he would choose Mary Carmichael before all the girls he had ever met. But that was out of the question; he had better put her out of his mind. Things were already sufficiently complicated without adding her. On the whole, the circumstances being what they were, considering the position with the judicial calmness which was becoming, he plumped for Gladys; and--the business in St. Paul's Churchyard. Gladys Patterson should be his wife; yes, she should be his wife, on all accounts; on all!--if--if it was not necessary to take a voyage to foreign parts.