"
"Absolutely, my dear fellow--absolutely!" Lord Porthoning declared. "Of
course you couldn't expect quite the same enthusiasm on the part of your
friends when you marry a young lady who is a stranger to all of them and
who comes from the backwoods of America. Can't think how it is you young
Englishmen can marry nothing, nowadays, unless it shows its legs upon the
stage or has a transatlantic drawl. I am going in to see if the champagne
they're opening now is any better. The first glass I had was horrid!"
My father-in-law watched him disappear through the crowd, and stood
patiently by my side while I exchanged greetings with a few newly arrived
friends.
"Say!" he observed presently, as soon as an opportunity rose for private
conversation. "He's a pleasant old gentleman, that connection of yours!"
"Glad you think so," I answered. "I don't call myself a bad-natured
fellow, and to-day I feel inclined to be friends with every one; but I
tell you frankly I can't bear the sight of Lord Porthoning. He has to be
asked, but he's like a wet blanket wherever he goes."
Mr. Bundercombe glanced round a moment. Then he leaned toward me. His
manner was earnest--almost pleading.
"Paul," he said, dropping his voice to a whisper, "don't you think it's up
to us to give a disagreeable little worm like that a bit of a lesson, eh?
His lordship has his own way too much.
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