decently-dressed women were pressing up as close to the porch as the
official personage, with a red collar on his coat and gold lace on his
hat, would allow them to go; and an indiscriminate collection of those
chance passers-by who never seem to be in any hurry, or to have anything
better to do than to stand and stare at any excitement, great or small,
that they may meet on their road, were blocking up the pavement on either
side of the red cloth carpeting.

Two ladies came walking along from the direction of the Park.

"There's a wedding going on; do let us go in and see it, Vera."

"My dear Cissy, I detest looking at people being married; it always makes
me low-spirited."

"And I love it. I always get such hints for dresses from a wedding. I'd
go anywhere to see anybody married. I've been to the Jewish synagogue, to
Spurgeon's tabernacle, and to the pro-cathedral, all in one week, before
now just to see weddings."

"There must be a sameness about the performances. Don't you get sick of
them?"

"Never. I wonder whose wedding it is; there must be thirty carriages
waiting. I'll ask one of these big footmen. Whose wedding is it?"

"Captain Kynaston's, ma'am."

"Oh, I used to know him once; he is such a handsome fellow. Come along,
Vera."