Manchurian Books

My uncle was my best man, and looked like a banker--a little banker--in
flower. He wore a white rose in his buttonhole. He wasn't, I think,
particularly talkative. At least I recall very little from him.
"George" he said once or twice, "this is a great occasion for you--a
very great occasion." He spoke a little doubtfully.
You see I had told him nothing about Marion until about a week before
the wedding; both he and my aunt had been taken altogether by surprise.
They couldn't, as people say, "make it out." My aunt was intensely
interested, much more than my uncle; it was then, I think, for the
first time that I really saw that she cared for me. She got me alone,
I remember, after I had made my announcement. "Now, George," she
said, "tell me everything about her. Why didn't you tell--ME at
least--before?"
I was surprised to find how difficult it was to tell her about Marion. I
perplexed her.
"Then is she beautiful?" she asked at last.
"I don't know what you'll think of her," I parried. "I think--"
"Yes?"
"I think she might be the most beautiful person in the world.


Pages:
285 286 287 288 289 290 291 292 293 294 295 296 297 298 299 300 301 302 303 304 305 306 307 308 309