He placed his candle on the kitchen table and made a bee-line for
the pantry door, from where he subsequently emerged with two pounds
of cold beef on a plate and about a quart of beer in a jug; and I
came away, leaving him fumbling for pickles.
I assisted at his wedding, where it seemed to me he endeavoured to
display more ecstasy than it was possible for any human being to
feel; and fifteen months later, happening to catch sight of an
advertisement in the births column of The Times, I called on my way
home from the City to congratulate him. He was pacing up and down
the passage with his hat on, pausing at intervals to partake of an
uninviting-looking meal, consisting of a cold mutton chop and a
glass of lemonade, spread out upon a chair. Seeing that the cook
and the housemaid were wandering about the house evidently bored
for want of something to do, and that the dining-room, where he
would have been much more out of the way, was empty and quite in
order, I failed at first to understand the reason for his
deliberate choice of discomfort. I, however, kept my reflections
to myself, and inquired after the mother and child.
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