p to his forehead; behind him the old nurse
sniffed.

"Dick," said young Dennant in his ear, "this isn't good enough; I vote
we bolt."

Shelton assenting, they walked towards the Park; nor could he tell
whether the slight nausea he experienced was due to afternoon champagne
or to the ceremony that had gone so well.

"What's up with you?" asked Dennant; "you look as glum as any m-monkey."

"Nothing," said Shelton; "I was only thinking what humbugs we all are!"

Bill Dennant stopped in the middle of the crossing, and clapped his
future brother-in-law upon the shoulder.

"Oh," said he, "if you're going to talk shop, I 'm off."

CHAPTER IX

THE DINNER

The dinner at the Casserols' was given to those of the bride's friends
who had been conspicuous in the day's festivities. Shelton found himself
between Miss Casserol and a lady undressed to much the same degree.
Opposite sat a man with a single diamond stud, a white waistcoat,
black moustache, and hawk-like face. This was, in fact, one of those
interesting houses occupied by people of the upper middle class who
have imbibed a taste for smart society. Its inhabitants, by nature
acquisitive and cautious, economical, tenacious, had learnt to worship
the word "smart." The result was a kind of heavy froth, an air of
thoroughly domestic vice. In addition to the conventionally fast,
Shelton had met there one or two ladies, who, having been divorced, or
having yet to be, still maintained their position in "society." Divorced
ladies who did not so maintain their place were never to be found, for
the Casserols had a great respect for marriage. He had also met there
American ladies who were "too amusing"--never, of course, American men,
Mesopotamians of the financial or the racing type, and several of those
gentlemen who had been, or were about to be, engaged in a transaction
which might or again might not, "come off," and in conduct of an order
which might, or again might not be spotted. The line he knew, was always
drawn at those in any category who were actually found out, for the
value of these ladies and these gentlemen was not their claim to
pity--nothing so sentimental--but their "smartness," clothes, jokes,
racing tips, their "bridge parties," and their motors.

In sum, the house was one whose fundamental domesticity attracted and
sheltered those who were too "smart" to keep their heads for long above
the water.

His host, a grey, clean-shaven city man, with