Sir Julian glanced at Mr. Garrett, wondering how he regarded the rather stupefying gospel preached by the chosen friend and companion of his bride.
The young man appeared more thoughtful than dismayed.
"In a general way," he remarked detachedly, "we moderns are all in favour of abolishing the present rather archaic marriage laws, and re-establishing the whole thing upon the basis of a purely civil contract; dissoluble after a term of years at the wish of either or both of the contracting parties."
Sir Julian had a momentary vision of earnest suburban debating societies, at which he felt sure that Mr. Garrett had formerly launched his eloquence, in words almost, if not quite, identical with his present text. Having no wish to fathom the young man's further views, he merely renewed enquiry of Iris as to the question of bridesmaids.
"Only dear little Ruthie," said Iris. "It's quite odd, but I haven't got an enormous number of girl friends. Somehow I've got heaps and heaps more men friends. I can't imagine why, I'm sure."
Neither could Julian, but he refrained from saying so.
"At one time, I rather wanted Miss Marchrose. Of course, I know she's not quite, absolutely, altogether one of ourselves—but still, as it's all to be so quiet—and then I could have got hold of a cousin to match her—but she wouldn't hear of it. Of course, she is older than I am."
"A good deal older, surely," said Sir Julian rather drily, contemplating the youthful blend of prettiness and vulgarity in front of him.
"Douglas," said Iris, with great suddenness, "do go away. I've just remembered that I want to ask Sir Julian something most frightfully particular."
"Secrets?" ejaculated Douglas, with playful reproach.