Honestly, was it my own point of view at all?
Would anything under heaven induce me, Paul Griggs, rich, or poor, or comfortably off, to marry any one--Miss Westonhaugh, for instance?
Probably not.

But then my preference for single blessedness did not prevent me from believing that women have souls.

That morning the question of the marriage of the whole universe had been a matter of the utmost indifference, and now I, a confirmed and hopelessly contented bachelor, was trying to convince a man with three wives that matrimony was a most excellent thing in its way, and that the pleasure of the honeymoon was but the faint introduction to the bliss of the silver wedding.

It certainly must be Isaacs' own doing.

He had launched on a voyage of discovery and had taken me in tow.