Her mother attempted to console her. Edith herself was very properly in tears; but also, through streaming eyes, she stared at Victor with such an expression of fascinated terror that I looked to see what could have caused it. Certainly it seemed a new Victor that took charge of this very awkward situation. Except for the fact that he sometimes tugged at his collar and mopped the sweat from his face, he behaved with complete composure. He looked from one to the other of us all with a curious intensity and exhilaration, almost as though it was we that had changed, and he must size us up afresh. Presently in a tone of authority that silenced the rest of us he said, "Listen to me for a minute! I know I can't ever put things right after the mess I have made, but I'll do whatever I can. Anyhow, I must try to explain. Standing there in these damned silly clothes and listening to the rector, I--well, as I said, I just woke up from a sort of dream. I saw Edith and me as we really are, me a young snob without a mind, and Edith--well, she's good to look at, very" (he smiled ruefully at her), "and what's more, underneath all the conventional trappings of her mind there's something sensitive and honest; yes, and much too good for me, for that drowsy snob. In my dream-life I really did think I was in love with her, but I wasn't really, even then, and I'm certainly not now." He was watching Edith, and an expression of pain passed over his face as he said, "God! What a mess! Edith, I know I have hurt you horribly, but I have saved you from something far worse, from marrying that somnambulant snob."

No one had supposed Victor capable of talking like this. Or no one but myself. To me, though the whole incident had of course been very surprising, it had not seemed entirely out of keeping with certain events in the past; particularly so, when Victor turned from Edith to me with a special smile. It was a twisted smile, half quizzical but wholly amiable, which in the old days I had learnt to regard as revealing the true Victor, but had lately missed. The smile faded into a grave and steady gaze, while he said to the company, "Harry, here, perhaps knows what I mean, partly." This remark turned the attention of the three parents upon me, and I could feel them blaming me for Victor's shocking deed. Victor's father looked at his son, then back at me, and the look said as clearly as words could have done, "My boy, why did you get tangled up with this fellow? He's not one of us. And now, see where he has led you!" At this point Edith brought the scene to a close by imploring her parents to take her home.

2 - VICTOR'S EARLY LIFE

From 1890 to 1912

THAT SAME AFTERNOON, while I was in my bedroom at the hotel, packing my hired clothes, and wondering how Victor was dealing with the parents, he came in dressed in an old tweed coat and flannels. He flung himself into the easy chair and said, "Thank God, oh, thank God, that's over I How wise of me, quite unconsciously wise, to fetch you along to be best man. You were a sort of touchstone, or the alarm clock that woke me."

While I was pondering this, and mechanically packing, he changed the subject. "Harry, old man," he said, "don't go home yet, unless you must. The least I can do after getting you into this mess is to tell you more about myself. It's rather urgent, because I may go back into my sleep-life at any minute. If you can spare a few hours, let's walk somewhere."

This suggestion itself was surprising, Victor normally despised the humblest form of physical exercise. Tennis, rugger, swimming, he enjoyed; and in all of them he was competent, in some brilliant. Walking he regarded as a mug's game. It was a means of transport to be resorted to only when his sports car was off the road.

And now, though the car was available to take us quickly into open country, he asked me, rather sheepishly, if I should mind going by bus. Sensing my surprise, he added, "You see, the car means the other life, the sleep-walker's life, and so it--well, it gives me the creeps."

How I remember that bus journey of nearly thirty years ago! The bus was crowded, and we had to stand. The solid tyres chattered our teeth together like dice in a box. When the conductor came for our fares, Victor surprised me by muddling the transaction. The conductor, with unspoken contempt, handed back the superfluous coins. Victor looked at them, not with the shame of the business man who had fallen short of the sacred virtue of business efficiency, but with a laugh which seemed to express relief at his own carelessness.