But I refrained. On that aspect of life
I touched very lightly in that talk, very lightly because I had had
my lessons. She promised to marry me within two months' time. Shyly,
reluctantly, she named a day, and next afternoon, in heat and wrath,
we "broke it off" again for the last time. We split upon procedure.
I refused flatly to have a normal wedding with wedding cake, in white
favours, carriages and the rest of it. It dawned upon me suddenly in
conversation with her and her mother, that this was implied. I blurted
out my objection forthwith, and this time it wasn't any ordinary
difference of opinion; it was a "row." I don't remember a quarter of the
things we flung out in that dispute. I remember her mother reiterating
in tones of gentle remonstrance: "But, George dear, you must have
a cake--to send home." I think we all reiterated things. I seem to
remember a refrain of my own: "A marriage is too sacred a thing, too
private a thing, for this display. Her father came in and stood behind
me against the wall, and her aunt appeared beside the sideboard and
stood with arms, looking from speaker to speaker, a sternly gratified
prophetess.
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