The next second she was gone.
Captain Willoughby took out a handkerchief and proceeded to mop his face. Then he stepped to a mirror and adjusted his tie.
“And they think they’re acting,” he muttered, jerking his head towards the box. “Well, well—it’s all in the day’s work. . . .” He fell to pulling his moustache. Suddenly he burst out laughing. “What a game Life is!” he cried. “I try to protect my own skin, and they give me the V.C.; I deliberately scrap my reputation to do a girl a good turn, and—and it costs me a jolly good friend and seven quid.” He lighted a cigarette and picked up his coat. “I wonder how Madge has got on,” he continued musingly. “And perhaps it’ld be as well if I had a look at the play. I can’t reappear till it’s over, and she might ask what it’s about.”
He hung up his coat, extinguished his cigarette and entered the box.
The wedding of David Herrick and Eleanor Cloke took place early in May and was a brilliant success.
The bride looked extraordinarily beautiful, and if the dignity of her gait was slightly affected, that was a fault upon the right side.
At the reception the bridegroom, who had eaten no lunch, ate nothing at all. I imagine he had decided that the occasion was one upon which no risks should be run.
Captain and Mrs. Willoughby were among the guests.
The tongues which had recently wagged fairly spouted the ‘Amens,’ and afterwards slobbered over the ‘enchanting atmosphere of a true love-match.’ Subduing a feeling of nausea, Madge and Crispin agreed enthusiastically.