Joker had, of
his own initiative, soon turned aside from the high road into a grassy
lane, and he moved along it in the relentless manner in which many
horses will decline to stand still while Larry, deep in thought,
allowed the reins to lie on the horse's neck while he lit a cigarette
and tried to fix in his memory Father David's exact words. He thought
he would talk to Dr. Mangan about it. Things might be better than the
old priest thought. From the thought of the doctor his mind passed on
to that of his wedding. Was it possible that he was to be married next
week? A distinct physical drop of the heart accompanied the
realisation. "Nerves!" he told himself, and hurried on to reflect upon
his bride. She certainly looked stunning in those grey furs; he was
glad he had given them to her; she knocked spots off any other girl in
the country. He impressed this thought on his mind. And she had sung
jolly well last night, and had accompanied him quite decently. They
would get on all right once they were married. She had been a bit
edgey these last few days, but--some under-self warned him off the
pursuit of this topic. He began to formulate excuses for her that
inculpated himself. Larry "came of a gentle kind," and had the
generous temper that finds it easier to bear than to ascribe blame.
A note of the horn was wafted sweetly across the glen, and he came to
the surface of his thoughts.
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