Aunt Gutton sighed and said she was afraid gentlemen didn't feel these things as much as they ought to.
“They've got their living to earn,” retorted Uncle Gutton.
I agreed with Uncle Gutton that life could not be wasted in vain regret.
“As for the rest,” admitted Uncle Gutton, handsomely, “I was wrong. You've turned out better than I expected you would.”
I thanked him for his improved opinion, and as we entered the restaurant we shook hands.
Minikin we found there waiting for us. He explained that having been able to obtain only limited leave of absence from business, he had concluded the time would be better employed at the restaurant than at the church. Others were there also with whom I was unacquainted, young sparks, admirers, I presume, of the Lady 'Ortensia in her professional capacity, fellow-clerks of Mr. Clapper, who was something in the City. Altogether we must have numbered a score.
Breakfast was laid in a large room on the first floor. The wedding presents stood displayed upon a side-table. My own, with my card attached, had not been seen by Mrs. Clapper till that moment. She and her mother lingered, examining it.
“Real silver!” I heard the maternal Sellars whisper, “Must have paid a ten pound note for it.”
“I hope you'll find it useful,” I said.
The maternal Sellars, drifting away, joined the others gathered together at the opposite end of the room.