Now, he must rush the wedding.
Dickey Bulmer's Lancashire canniness might stipulate for cash on delivery as the essence of the marriage contract.

Not a penny would the old miser part with until he was sure of the girl.
So David Verity, having much to occupy his mind, lingered over the second glass of port, for this was a Sunday dinner, served at mid-day.
At last he closed his eyes for his customary nap; but sleep was not to be wooed just then; instead of dozing, he felt exceedingly wide awake.
Indeed, certain disquieting calculations were running through his brain, and he yielded forthwith to their insistence.

Taking a small notebook from his pocket, he jotted down an array of figures.

He was so absorbed in their analysis that he did not see Iris walk listlessly across the lawn that spread its summer greenery in front of the dining-room windows.

And that was an ill thing for David.