mauve, a set of blue, a set of grey; the brown set with the striped
shirt; they were all awf'ly smart. Marie was so dainty, she liked a
man to be smart, too. All he wanted was to please her.

Rokeby came early, as quiet and lacklustre as ever. He sat down in the
obvious lodging-house bedroom, lighted a cigarette and looked at
Osborn without a smile. He prepared himself to be bored and amazed;
weddings, tiresome as they were, always amazed him. And he was
prepared, too, for a settled insanity in Osborn until--

"I wonder how long _he'll_ be?" Rokeby thought.

"I've finished packing," said Osborn, clapping his old brushes
together; the new ones lay among the new suits. "It's time we started,
almost, isn't it?"

"Not by an hour," Rokeby answered, consulting a wrist watch. "Have you
breakfasted?"

"Not yet."

"You'd better, hadn't you?"

Osborn was concerned with the set of the new coat over his fine
shoulders.

"Breakfast was on the table when I came through," added Rokeby.

"Was it?" replied Osborn absently.