"No; deep-red, like red gold--"
"O, Geoff, I know, I know! Like the Scylla in the picture. O, you worse than fox, to deceive me in that way, telling me it was a model, and all the rest of it. Well, if she's like that, she must be wonderful to look at, and I'm dying to see her. What's her name?"
"Margaret."
"Margaret! That's very nice; I like Margaret very much. Of course you'll never let yourself be sufficiently childishly spoony to let it drop into Peggy, which is atrocious. I'm very glad she's got a nice name; for, do all I could, I'm certain I never could like a sister-in-law who was called Belinda or Keziah, or any thing dreadful."
"Have you fixed your wedding-day, Geoffrey?"
"Yes, mother; for Thursday next."
"Thursday!" exclaimed Miss Til. "Thursday next? why there'll be no time for me to get anything ready; for I suppose, as your sister, Geoff, I'm to be one of the bridesmaids?"
"There will be no bridesmaids, dear Til," said Geoffrey; "no company, no breakfast. I have always thought that, if ever I married, I should like to walk into the church with my bride, have the service gone through, and walk out again, without the least attempt at show; and I'm glad to find that Margaret thoroughly coincides with me."
"But surely, Geoffrey," said Mrs. Ludlow, "your friends will--"
"O my! Talking of friends," interrupted Miss Til, "I quite forgot in all this flurry to tell you that Mr. Charles Potts is in the drawing-room, waiting to see you, Geoffrey."