"Oh, no, we're not getting married at once, you know," Guy explained.
"Well, you're quite right," Brydone declared heartily. "After all, being close at hand like this, you're not much likely to draw a blank in the lottery."
"Marriage is a lottery, isn't it?" said Guy with polite sarcasm.
"Rather," sighed Willsher. "Terrific!"
"I suppose I shall have to be looking round preparatory to getting married in two or three years' time," Brydone added. "Well, you see, after Christmas I shall be thinking about my finals, and then I'm going to come in as the old man's partner. Country people like it best, if a doctor's married. No doubt about that, is there, Charlie?"
The solicitor's son agreed it was indubitable.
"Of course if I had the cash to hang on in Harley Street for ten years as a specialist, it would be another matter. But I can't, so there it is."
Even this fellow had his dreams, Guy thought; even he would make acquaintance with thwarted ambitions.
"Been doing anything with a rod lately?" asked Willsher, whose pastime, when he could not be standing in action on the river's bank, was always to steer a conversation in the direction of anglers' gossip.
"No, not lately," said Guy. "Though I knocked down a lot of apples with one last month."