All were smiling, and a few were weeping, craning their heads towards the bride.

"Carnival of second-hand emotions!" thought Shelton; and he, too, craned his head and brushed his hat.

Then, smirking at his friends, he made his way towards the door.
In the Casserols' house he found himself at last going round the presents with the eldest Casserol surviving, a tall girl in pale violet, who had been chief bridesmaid.
"Did n't it go off well, Mr.Shelton ?" she was saying "Oh, awfully!" "I always think it's so awkward for the man waiting up there for the bride to come." "Yes," murmured Shelton.
"Don't you think it's smart, the bridesmaids having no hats ?" Shelton had not noticed this improvement, but he agreed.
"That was my idea; I think it 's very chic.

They 've had fifteen tea-sets-so dull, is n't it ?" "By Jove!" Shelton hastened to remark.
"Oh, its fearfully useful to have a lot of things you don't want; of course, you change them for those you do." The whole of London seemed to have disgorged its shops into this room; he looked at Miss Casserol's face, and was greatly struck by the shrewd acquisitiveness of her small eyes.
"Is that your future brother-in-law ?" she asked, pointing to Bill Dennant with a little movement of her chin; "I think he's such a bright boy.

I want you both to come to dinner, and help to keep things jolly.
It's so deadly after a wedding." And Shelton said they would.
They adjourned to the hall now, to wait for the bride's departure.