I paid), in his mouth, and saying, ‘My dear son, why do you drink this trash?’ it was tantamount in him—to a paternal benediction on our union, accompanied with a gush of tears. The coolness of M.R.F. is not to be measured by ordinary standards.”
“True enough,” said Lightwood.
“That’s all,” pursued Eugene, “that I shall ever hear from M.R.F. on the subject, and he will continue to saunter through the world with his hat on one side. My marriage being thus solemnly recognized at the family altar, I have no further trouble on that score. Next, you really have done wonders for me, Mortimer, in easing my money-perplexities, and with such a guardian and steward beside me, as the preserver of my life (I am hardly strong yet, you see, for I am not man enough to refer to her without a trembling voice—she is so inexpressibly dear to me, Mortimer!), the little that I can call my own will be more than it ever has been. It need be more, for you know what it always has been in my hands. Nothing.”