It is not the purpose of this narrative to dwell minutely upon the events of the next few months.

Truth to say, they were devoid of incidents of sufficient moment in themselves to warrant chronicle.

What they led up to was memorable enough.
As time went on John found himself on terms of growing intimacy with the Carling household, and eventually it came about that if there passed a day when their door did not open to him it was _dies non_.
Mr.Carling was ostensibly more responsible than the ladies for the frequency of our friend's visits, and grew to look forward to them.

In fact, he seemed to regard them as paid primarily to himself, and ignored an occasional suggestion on his wife's part that it might not be wholly the pleasure of a chat and a game at cards with him that brought the young man so often to the house.

And when once she ventured to concern him with some stirrings of her mind on the subject, he rather testily (for him) pooh-poohed her misgivings, remarking that Mary was her own mistress, and, so far as he had ever seen, remarkably well qualified to regulate her own affairs.