For the family practitioner had passed on to talk to somebody else, leaving his lordship slowly passing his tongue over his lips, and trying to add another wrinkle to his forehead, as he wondered whether he could smuggle in two or three glasses of champagne without being seen by her ladyship or Doctor Todd.
“Ah, my dear Mr Melton,” said the latter, “how are you?”
“Quite well, doctor,” said the young man addressed, as he passed his hand over his crisp golden beard, and smiled pleasantly at the medical man, whose eyes were playing all over the room, and who now crossed to where the young bride was standing.
“I say,” he exclaimed, “I did not congratulate you in the church. God bless you, my dear! may you be very happy. And only the other day you were a baby, eh?”
He nodded, smiled, and passed on to where a very elderly-looking fair young man, elaborately dressed, was talking to a stout mamma—the mother of two of the bridesmaids.
The withered-looking gentleman, who blinked a good deal, and seemed as if the light was too strong for him, turned to speak to the doctor as he approached.
“Well,” said the latter—“better?”
“Yas, I think so; yas, doctor, but you know I can’t think what ails my constitution.”
“I can,” thought the doctor, as he turned away looking sharply round the room; “luxury, late hours, too much money, and nothing sensible to do. Blasé fool! Oh, there she is.”
He crossed as quickly as the crowded state of the room would allow him to where Lady Maude was standing, and made her start as he said sharply—