They drove away toward London under a deluging shower of rice and old slippers, and with white ribbon—yards and yards of it—streaming from every attachable place on Sir Caryll's own motor-car.
After they had gone the guests continued very merry. A great quantity of champagne had been consumed in drinking the health and happiness of the launched voyagers on the matrimonial sea, and every one's spirits were keyed high.
Every one's, that is to say, except Kitty Bellingdown's and Kneedrock's.
"Poor dear Caryll!" sighed his aunt, who, like some others, always chose to weep over those that were given in matrimony. "Well, and so he's married at last!"
"And such a surprise!" exclaimed the duke. "I say, Doody, wasn't it a surprise?"
Doody didn't say anything. She was trying a new dance-step with Waltheof.
"And so now there's an end to the gossip," contributed Charlotte Grey.
Kneedrock, who had his back turned, wheeled around.
"Oh, is there?" he observed in his characteristic ringing undertone.
The duchess gave over trying the dance-step, and joined the group.