round to assure himself that there was no one about who knew him. It was a relief to him to be released and introduced to the Bride.
'Gladys, this is Gran come to meet us—as I knew he would—like the brick he is, and always was!'
Gran was conscious of being scrutinised keenly by the finest dark eyes he had ever encountered in his life; but the next moment he was shaking his sister-in-law's hand, and felt that it was a large hand—a trifling discovery that filled Granville with a subtile sense of satisfaction. But the Bride was yet to open her lips.
'How do you do?' she said, the olive tint of her cheek deepening slightly. 'It was awfully nice of you to come; I am glad to see you—I have heard such lots about you, you know!'
It was said so glibly that the little speech was not, perhaps, exactly extempore: and it was spoken—every word of it—with a twang that, to sensitive ears like Granville's, was simply lacerating. Granville winced, and involuntarily dropped his eyeglass; but otherwise he kept a courteous countenance, and made a sufficiently civil reply.
As for Alfred, he, of course, noticed nothing
