Spurlock—for that's his real name—were married at high noon. “I meant it. But he had always felt (he had never allowed himself to think of it) that the promptitude of their family was a little indelicate of her, and in a sense an intrusion. The colouring was green and white, with softly shaded electric lights, an alcove bedstead, which was a miracle of daintiness, white furniture, and a long low dressing-table littered all over with a multitude of daintily fashioned toilet appliances. Fretting and fidgeting, he had, after an hour or so, turned to McClintock. If I'd not gone mad, they would have hanged me.
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