“Excuse me,” said the doctor, faintly. “It was a foolish question to ask.”
“I think I have the honor of speaking to Dr. Amboyne?”
Dr. Amboyne bowed mechanically.
“You will be at the wedding-breakfast, of course?”
“Humph!”
“Why, surely, you are invited?”
“Yes” (with an equally absent air).
Finding him thus confused, the sprightly curate laughed and bade him good-morning, jumped into a hansom, and away to Woodbine Villa.
Dr. Amboyne followed him slowly.
“Drive me to Woodbine Villa. There's no hurry now.”