“Congratulations!” shouted the Colonel. “Damnation!”
“Edgar, my dear Edgar,” protested his wife.
“My dear, allow me. And you, sir,” he said, turning abruptly to the Reverend Donald Fraser, “can you condone such proceedings? What do you say, sir?”
“Sir, with your permission,” said the minister with solemn gravity, “in words of weightier authority than my own, I would say, ‘Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing, and obtaineth favor from the Lord.’ Who are we that we should seek to oppose the leadings of providence?”
“Providence?” snorted the Colonel. “The devil!”
“Edgar, I beg you,” pleaded his wife, who in twenty-two years had never seen her husband in such a mood.
“My dear, my dear, you must allow me. In this matter my honour is involved.” Then, wheeling upon Paul, in tones of chilling courtesy he said, “And you, sir, all that I shall say to you is this, that I have the honour to wish you good night.”
“Colonel Pelham!” entreated Paul.
“You will find your horse in the stable, sir,” said the Colonel, bowing profoundly.
Paul stood motionless for a moment, then with an answering bow he replied gravely, “Good night, Colonel Pelham. Good night, Aunt Augusta.”