“Not at all—present—Lucknow—Gurkhas. By the way, Charlie, did you know that young Roberts, your school-fellow, won the V.C.? Won it twice over, in fact—I saw him.”
“Well done, D.A.Q.M.G.! That young man will make his mark in the world. He’s a man that understands men—and things.”
Ethel then related Ted’s story of the jewels and the bargain made, and Charlie presented his gifts, a pair of paintings brought back with him from England two months before. To everyone’s surprise he next dragged out a pair of silver-mounted kukris, Goria Thapa’s present to Major Russell, in memory of their father’s friendship.
Charlie and Ted returned to Jim’s quarters, leaving the lovers half an hour of solitude.
“My stars, Ted, that’s a pretty girl!” observed the former.
“Isn’t she stunning? She’s no end fun either, though she looks so demure.”
“Jim has displayed unusual discrimination, I must say.”
The day, by custom termed “auspicious”—though why the bridegroom cannot tell—came round at last. Major Russell appeared as joyous as could reasonably be expected—and no more. Whilst awaiting the bride’s appearance Captain Dorricot, as best man, apparently considered his a most gladsome task. Why does “a best man” consider it necessary to be ribald?
“Major Russell,” he whispered, “are you or are you not going to hold yourself straight? Think of me! You’re disgracing me before all these people. Don’t look so cheap, man; you’ll get used to it!