"It would be like him if he did," I said. "I fancy he will."
"I can't go and kick him," said my uncle.
"Declined with thanks," I suggested, "owing to pressure of other matter."
"You are getting shoppy, George," said my uncle, in as near an approach to a querulous tone as I have heard from him.
"You are getting married," I replied, with the complacency of one whose troubles are over. "But it's a horrible nuisance, anyhow. Still, the world grows wiser, and the burden is not quite so bad as it used to be. A hundred years hence——"
"I'd be willing enough to wait," said my uncle; "but I'm not the only party in this affair."
He was willing enough to wait, perhaps, but time was inexorable. Save for one hurried interview, I did not see him again for a week, and then it was before the altar. His garrulity had fallen from him like a garment. He was preoccupied and a trifle bashful. He fumbled with the ring. I felt almost as though he was my younger brother.
I stood by him to the end, and at last came the hour of parting. I grasped his hand in silence: silently he mastered a becoming emotion. And in silence he went from me unto the New Life.