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Page 92
"You could buy a bun," suggested George.
"Well, I shall never know, I suppose. And now how about trickling
forth? I say, laddie, you don't object if I sing slightly from time
to time during the journey? I'm so dashed happy, you know."
"Not at all, if it's not against the traffic regulations."
Reggie wandered aimlessly about the room in an ecstasy.
"It's a rummy thing," he said meditatively, "I've just remembered
that, when I was at school, I used to sing a thing called the
what's-it's-name's wedding song. At house-suppers, don't you know,
and what not. Jolly little thing. I daresay you know it. It starts
'Ding dong! Ding dong!' or words to that effect, 'Hurry along! For
it is my wedding-morning!' I remember you had to stretch out the
'mor' a bit. Deuced awkward, if you hadn't laid in enough breath.
'The Yeoman's Wedding-Song.' That was it. I knew it was some
chappie or other's. And it went on 'And the bride in something or
other is doing something I can't recollect.' Well, what I mean is,
now it's my wedding-morning! Rummy, when you come to think of it,
what? Well, as it's getting tolerable late, what about it? Shift
ho?"
"I'm ready. Would you like me to bring some rice?"
"Thank you, laddie, no. Dashed dangerous stuff, rice! Worse than
shrapnel. Got your hat? All set?"
"I'm waiting."
"Then let the revels commence," said Reggie. "Ding dong! Ding
Dong! Hurry along! For it is my wedding-morning! And the bride--
Dash it, I wish I could remember what the bride was doing!"
"Probably writing you a note to say that she's changed her mind,
and it's all off."
"Oh, my God!" exclaimed Reggie. "Come on!"
CHAPTER 21.
Mr. and Mrs. Reginald Byng, seated at a table in the corner of the
Regent Grill-Room, gazed fondly into each other's eyes. George,
seated at the same table, but feeling many miles away, watched them
moodily, fighting to hold off a depression which, cured for a while
by the exhilaration of the ride in Reggie's racing-car (it had
beaten its previous record for the trip to London by nearly twenty
minutes), now threatened to return. The gay scene, the ecstasy of
Reggie, the more restrained but equally manifest happiness of his
bride--these things induced melancholy in George. He had not wished
to attend the wedding-lunch, but the happy pair seemed to be
revolted at the idea that he should stroll off and get a bite to
eat somewhere else.
"Stick by us, laddie," Reggie had said pleadingly, "for there is
much to discuss, and we need the counsel of a man of the world. We
are married all right--"
"Though it didn't seem legal in that little registrar's office,"
put in Alice.
"--But that, as the blighters say in books, is but a beginning, not
an end. We have now to think out the most tactful way of letting
the news seep through, as it were, to the mater."
"And Lord Marshmoreton," said Alice. "Don't forget he has lost his
secretary."
"And Lord Marshmoreton," amended Reggie. "And about a million other
people who'll be most frightfully peeved at my doing the Wedding
Glide without consulting them. Stick by us, old top. Join our
simple meal. And over the old coronas we will discuss many things."
The arrival of a waiter with dishes broke up the silent communion
between husband and wife, and lowered Reggie to a more earthly
plane. He refilled the glasses from the stout bottle that nestled
in the ice-bucket--("Only this one, dear!" murmured the bride in
a warning undertone, and "All right darling!" replied the dutiful
groom)--and raised his own to his lips.
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