Maybe it was cowardly to sneak back to town a couple of days later, "on business," of course-a shabby excuse for a chap that doesn't dabble in business more than I do. But I honestly needed to go to get back my equilibrium. I got it, though, and I've kept it pretty continuously.
And this much is enough for that. Natica Melsford is the only interesting bit about this story, and let's get back to her.
That winter she married Jack Drayton.
The afternoon we rehearsed for the wedding I looked at her, before we pranced down the aisle and endured the endless silly giggles of the bridesmaids, and the usher louts who would fall out of step, and grew more peevish by the minute. I looked her over then, and I said to myself: "You feeble paranoiac, imagine that girl tying up with _you_." Well, I couldn't very well imagine it, although I tried.
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