I knew it, though, for Mr. Frank told me.  He hadn’t a bit of pride about him.  He introduced me to his future wife one day when I met him out walking, and asked me if I did not think he was a lucky fellow.  I don’t mind admitting that I did, and that I told him so.  Ah! but she was one of my sort, was that governess.  Stood, to the best of my recollection, five foot four.  Good lissom figure, that looked as if it had never been boxed up in a pair of stays.  Eyes that made me feel as if I was under a pretty stiff cross-examination the moment she looked at me.  Fine red, kiss-and-come-again sort of lips.  Cheeks and complexion—­No, Mr. Artist, you wouldn’t identify her by her cheeks and complexion, if I drew you a picture of them this very moment.  She has had a family of children since the time I’m talking of; and her cheeks are a trifle fatter, and her complexion is a shade or two redder now, than when I first met her out walking with Mr. Frank.

The marriage was to take place on a Wednesday.  I decline mentioning the year or the month.  I had started as an attorney on my own account—­say six weeks, more or less, and was sitting alone in my office on the Monday morning before the wedding-day, trying to see my way clear before me and not succeeding particularly well, when Mr. Frank suddenly bursts in, as white as any ghost that ever was painted, and says he’s got the most dreadful case for me to advise on, and not an hour to lose in acting on my advice.

“Is this in the way of business, Mr. Frank?” says I, stopping him just as he was beginning to get sentimental.  “Yes or no, Mr. Frank?” rapping my new office paper-knife on the table, to pull him up short all the sooner.

“My dear fellow”—­he was always familiar with me—­“it’s in the way of business, certainly; but friendship—­”

I was obliged to pull him up short again, and regularly examine him as if he had been in the witness-box, or he would have kept me talking to no purpose half the day.

“Now, Mr. Frank,” says I, “I can’t have any sentimentality mixed up with business matters.  You please to stop talking, and let me ask questions.  Answer in the fewest words you can use.  Nod when nodding will do instead of words.”

I fixed him with my eye for about three seconds, as he sat groaning and wriggling in his chair.  When I’d done fixing him, I gave another rap with my paper-knife on the table to startle him up a bit.  Then I went on.

“From what you have been stating up to the present time,” says I, “I gather that you are in a scrape which is likely to interfere seriously with your marriage on Wednesday?”

(He nodded, and I cut in again before he could say a word): 

“The scrape affects your young lady, and goes back to the period of a transaction in which her late father was engaged, doesn’t it?”

(He nods, and I cut in once more):