This he did, dreaming of no
danger. When he came back he realised what had happened. His
master had got up and fallen into the canal. What had really
happened only a few of us knew.
Well, I have told you the man's story. I am not his judge. Whether
his act was the supreme amende, the supreme act of courage or the
supreme act of cowardice, it is not for me to say. I heard nothing
of the matter for many weeks, for they took me off to a nursing
home and kept me in the deathly stillness of a sepulchre. When I
resumed my life in Wellingsford I found smiling faces to welcome
me. My first public action was to give away Phyllis Gedge in
marriage to Randall Holmes--Randall Holmes in the decent kit of
an officer and a gentleman. He made this proposition to me on the
first evening of my return. "The bride's father," said I, somewhat
ironically, "is surely the proper person."
"The bride's father," said he, "is miles away, and, like a wise
and hoary villain, is likely to remain there."
This was news. "Gedge has left Wellingsford?" I cried. "How did
that come about?"
He stuck his hands on his hips and looked down on me pityingly.
"I'm afraid, sir," said he, "you'll never do adequate justice to
my intelligence and my capacity for affairs.
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