“And what did you decide?” asked Gerald, at once pricking up his ears at the thought of a metaphysical discussion.
“You don’t want a soul today, my boy,” said Marshall. “It’d be in your road.”
“Christ! Marshall, go and talk to somebody else,” cried Gerald, with sudden impatience.
“By God, I’m willing,” said Marshall, in a temper. “Too much bloody soul and talk altogether—”
He withdrew in a dudgeon, Gerald staring after him with angry eyes, that grew gradually calm and amiable as the stoutly-built form of the other man passed into the distance.
“There’s one thing, Lupton,” said Gerald, turning suddenly to the bridegroom. “Laura won’t have brought such a fool into the family as Lottie did.”
“Comfort yourself with that,” laughed Birkin.
“I take no notice of them,” laughed the bridegroom.