For many days now he had not seen Mrs Raymond. She had answered no letters, and been always 'out' to him.
As he walked along, he wondered what had become of her, and tried to think he didn't care.
'I have news for you, Cecil,' said his uncle; 'but, first, you really have made up your mind, haven't you, to try your luck with Hyacinth? What a pretty perfumed name it is—just like her.'
'I suppose I shall try.'
'Good. I'm delighted to hear it. Then in a very short time I shall hear that you're as happy as I am.'
'As you, Uncle Ted?'
'Look at this house, Cecil. It's full of Things; it wants looking after. I want looking after…. I am sure you wouldn't mind—wouldn't be vexed to hear I was going to marry again?'
'Rather not. I'm glad. It must be awfully lonely here sometimes. But I am surprised, I must say. Everybody looks upon you as a confirmed widower, Uncle Ted.'
'Well, so I have been a confirmed widower—for eighteen years. I think that's long enough.'
Cecil waited respectfully.