He grew angry at the heaviness of his heart.

Was he always to love no one but Warrington?
It is fine to be a bachelor when one is young; but when the years multiply, when there are no new junkets and old ones grow stale, when scenes change, when friends drop out one by one, when a younger generation usurps the primrose path of dalliance, ah! the world becomes a dreary place.

The old bachelor is the loneliest and most pathetic of men.
Once inside the carriage, the women began a light, friendly chatter; smiles and laughter; little jests about Benedicks, about the servant question, about coming home late o' nights; antenuptial persiflage.
There was little that was spontaneous; each jest was an effort; but it sufficed to relieve what might have been awkward silence.
"It's up to you, now, Dick," said John.

"Think of the good times we four could have together!" "And who'd marry an old man like me ?" asked Warrington plaintively.
"Bosh!" said John.
"Nonsense!" said Patty.
"You are a young man," said the mother.
"There are plenty setting their caps for you, if you but knew it," said Miss Challoner.
"Aha! I smell a conspiracy!" laughed Warrington.

"You are putting your heads together to get me off your hands." The breakfast awaited them at Bennington's hotel.