" but that they should drive there and then to the finest
jeweller's in Sturt Street, where she had the pick of a trayful. And now
Mr. Ocock, all a-smirk with sheepish pride, was fetched in to receive
congratulations, and Polly produced refreshments; and healths were
drunk. Afterwards the happy couple dallied in the passage and loitered
on the doorstep, till evening was far advanced.
It was Polly who, in clearing away, was struck dumb by the thought: "But
now whatever is to become of Miss Amelia?"
She wondered if this consideration troubled the old man. Trouble there
was, of some sort: he called at the house three days running for a word
with Richard. He wore a brand-new pair of shepherd's-plaid trousers, a
choker that his work-stained hands had soiled in tying, a black coat, a
massive gold watch-chain. On the third visit he was lucky enough to
catch Mahony, and the door of the surgery closed behind them.
Here Mr. Ocock sat on the extreme edge of a chair; alternately crushed
his wide-awake flat between his palms and expanded it again, as though
he were playing a concertina; and coughed out a wordy preamble. He
assured Mahony, to begin with, how highly he esteemed him. It was
because of this, because he knew doctor was as straight as a pound of
candles, that he was going to ask his advice on an awkward matter--
devilish awkward!--one nobody had any idea of either--except Henry.
And Henry had kicked up such a deuce of a row at his wanting to marry
again, that he was damned if he'd have anything more to do with him.
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