“No,” replied Charles; “did you?”
“Did I not?” said I. “You wouldn’t believe the amount of rice I started their married life with. About two milk puddings’ worth, I should say. And so you are not quite satisfied with William’s choice?”
“Well, she seems to me to be rather an unresponsive and timid sort of person,” said Charles. “Not tactful, nor likely to make what the newspapers call a charming hostess. I should have liked dear William to marry someone who would be a social success.”
I smoked for some time in silence, and then I had an idea.
“How was the bride dressed when you saw her, Charles?” I asked.
“Do I know how women are dressed? She was in white, of course, and hadn’t a hat on.”
“But she had a train and a veil, I suppose. She hadn’t a short skirt by any chance?”
“Goodness, how do I know?” he replied. “I didn’t notice all that. Why do you ask?”
“Well, you only saw her once, you see,” I said, “and you went through that little gate at the bottom of the garden, didn’t you?”
“I did,” said Charles. “What’s that got to do with it?”