"I'm afraid I do not understand you."
"He says he doesn't understand me, Bess. Isn't that a funny man?"
"Are you not married, Mr. Ely?" inquired the bride of an hour.
"I have not that happiness."
For the life of him Mr. Ash could not have resisted the chance which offered.
"But he's going to be--he's engaged," he said.
Mr. Ely turned the colour of a boiled beetroot. But Mr. and Mrs. Bailey quite mistook the reason. It was not because he was shy; it was because the exigencies of civilisation debarred him from cutting Mr. Ash's throat.
"I wish you joy!" exclaimed the gentleman.
"When's it going to be!" chimed in the lady.
"I'll be best man!"