I was obliged to own that if this was a specimen of a wedding-day, it was anything but a joyous and festive time; and it seemed to me that the day that had begun so unsatisfactorily was to be kept in character to the end. For, before reaching Hammersmith, one of the horses shied and fell, and those at the pole went right upon it before the omnibus could be stopped, with the consequence that the vehicle was nearly upset, and a general shriek arose. No harm, however, was done, and in a quarter of an hour we were once more under weigh, but Mary said, with a sigh and a rub of the back of my hand against the buttons of her dress, that it was a warning of worse things to come; and though very sorry for her, I could not help longing for our journey's end. "Just you come over here, Ant'ny," said Revitts suddenly; and I had to change places and sit between him and his wife, of whom he seemed not to take the slightest notice. "Are you better, Bill?" I said. "Better?" he said sharply; "what do you mean by better? I'm all right." "That's well," I said. "Of course it is. Now look here, Ant'ny, I've been thinking a good deal about that there big-a-mee as we come along, and I'll just tell you what I should have done." I heard Mary give a gulp; but I thought it better not to try and thwart him, so prepared to listen. "You see, Ant'ny," he said, in a very didactic manner, "when a fellow is in the force, and is always taking up people and getting up cases, and attending at the police-courts, and Old Bailey sessions and coroners' inquests, he picks up a deal of valuable information." "Of course, Bill." "He do; it stands to reason that he do. Well, then, I ought to know just two or three things." "Say two or three thousand, Bill." "Well," he said, giving his head an official roll, as if settling it in his great stock, "we won't say that. Let's put it at 'undreds--two or three 'undreds. Now, if I'd had such a case as that big-a-mee in hand, I should have begun at the beginning.--Where are we now?" he said, after a pause, during which he had taken off his hat, and rubbed his head in a puzzled way. "You were talking about the case," I said, "and beginning at the beginning." "Don't you try to be funny, young fellow," he said severely. "I said, where are we now?" "Just passing Hyde Park Corner, Bill." "Yes, of course," he said. "Well, look here, my lad, there's no doubt about one thing: women, take 'em all together, are--no, I won't say a bad lot, but they're weak--awful weak. I've seen a deal on 'em at the police-courts." "I suppose so," I said, as I heard Mary give a low sigh. "They're not what they should be, Ant'ny, by a long chalk, and the way they'll tell lies and deceive and cheat 's about awful, that it is." "Some women are bad, I daresay," I said, in a qualifying tone. "Some?" he said, with a short, dry laugh; "it's some as is good. Most women's bad."