Let the day of the ceremony come and go.
Richard passed through it in a state of exaltation and anxiety which bordered on fever.

Mr.Westlake and his wife came down from London by an early train, and he went over New Wanley with them before luncheon.

The luncheon itself did not lack festive vivacity; Richard, in surveying his guests from the head of the board, had feelings not unlike those wherein King Polycrates lulled himself of old; there wanted, in truth, one thing to complete his self-complacence, but an extra glass or two of wine enrubied his imagination, and he already saw Adela's face smiling to him from the table's unoccupied end.

What was such conquest in comparison with that which fate had accorded him?
There was a satisfactory gathering to hear Mr.Westlake's address; Richard did not fail to note the presence of a few reporters, only it seemed to him that their pencils might have been more active.

Here, too, was Adela at length; every time his name was uttered, perforce she heard; every encomium bestowed upon him by the various speakers was to him like a new bud on the tree of hope.