'
'How do you mean?' asked Reardon, puzzled, and not very well
pleased.
'There's a great deal of pure intellect about Miss Yule, you
know. She was sure to choose a man of the passionate kind.'
'I think you are talking nonsense, my dear fellow.'
'Well, perhaps I am. To tell you the truth, I have by no means
completed my study of women yet. It is one of the things in which
I hope to be a specialist some day, though I don't think I shall
ever make use of it in novels--rather, perhaps, in life.'
Three days--two days--one day.
Now let every joyous sound which the great globe can utter ring
forth in one burst of harmony! Is it not well done to make the
village-bells chant merrily when a marriage is over? Here in
London we can have no such music; but for us, my dear one, all
the roaring life of the great city is wedding-hymn. Sweet, pure
face under its bridal-veil! The face which shall, if fate spare
it, be as dear to me many a long year hence as now at the
culminating moment of my life!
As he trudged on in the dark, his tortured memory was living
through that time again.
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