As for us, in the interest of our observation of the bridal pair, we
fell rather silent. I was conscious that the Philosopher, regarding them
somewhat steadily, drew a deep breath which sounded like a sigh of
dissatisfaction. Noting how thin the Professor's ash-coloured hair
seemed to be, over the crown of his head, in comparison with Dahlia's
luxuriant and elaborately dressed chestnut locks, I felt depressedly
that the disparity in age was more marked than is often seen. This, in
itself, of course, was nothing; but taken in connection with----
The Skeptic leaned forward again.
"What'll you wager I couldn't get up a flirtation with her to-night, if
I happened to sit next her?" he challenged in a whisper.
"Don!" murmured Hepatica; but she smiled.
"I'm not anywhere near his age," continued the Skeptic. "My auburn
tresses are thick upon my head, my evening clothes were made a decade
later than his. If I were only sitting next her!"
At this moment some more people came down the aisle and were shown to
the seats immediately beyond our friends.
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