"It sounds as though somebody had been teaching you ju-jitsu by
post."
"They were great! Real red-hot stuff straight from the stable.
Priceless tips like 'Make yourself indispensable to her in little
ways', 'Study her tastes', and so on and so forth. I tell you,
laddie, I pretty soon stopped worrying about who was sending them
to me, and concentrated the old bean on acting on them. They
worked like magic. The last one came yesterday morning, and it was
a topper! It was all about how a chappie who was nervous should
proceed. Technical stuff, you know, about holding her hand and
telling her you're lonely and being sincere and straightforward and
letting your heart dictate the rest. Have you ever asked for one
card when you wanted to fill a royal flush and happened to pick out
the necessary ace? I did once, when I was up at Oxford, and, by
Jove, this letter gave me just the same thrill. I didn't hesitate.
I just sailed in. I was cold sober, but I didn't worry about that.
Something told me I couldn't lose. It was like having to hole out a
three-inch putt. And--well, there you are, don't you know." Reggie
became thoughtful. "Dash it all! I'd like to know who the fellow
was who sent me those letters. I'd like to send him a
wedding-present or a bit of the cake or something. Though I suppose
there won't be any cake, seeing the thing's taking place at a
registrar's."
"You could buy a bun," suggested George.
"Well, I shall never know, I suppose. And now how about trickling
forth? I say, laddie, you don't object if I sing slightly from time
to time during the journey? I'm so dashed happy, you know."
"Not at all, if it's not against the traffic regulations."
Reggie wandered aimlessly about the room in an ecstasy.
"It's a rummy thing," he said meditatively, "I've just remembered
that, when I was at school, I used to sing a thing called the
what's-it's-name's wedding song. At house-suppers, don't you know,
and what not. Jolly little thing. I daresay you know it. It starts
'Ding dong! Ding dong!' or words to that effect, 'Hurry along! For
it is my wedding-morning!' I remember you had to stretch out the
'mor' a bit. Deuced awkward, if you hadn't laid in enough breath.
'The Yeoman's Wedding-Song.' That was it. I knew it was some
chappie or other's. And it went on 'And the bride in something or
other is doing something I can't recollect.' Well, what I mean is,
now it's my wedding-morning! Rummy, when you come to think of it,
what? Well, as it's getting tolerable late, what about it? Shift
ho?"