All things went on perfectly.

The magnificent preparations making for my darling occupied my time most happily.

It was now almost the end of November, and our marriage was to take place on the 26th of December.

Mr.Dickson and his army of workmen had taken their departure, and the rooms prepared for my wife were beyond all praise.
The boudoir was hung in blue and silver; it was a perfect little fairyland; nothing was wanting to make it a nest of luxury.

The boudoir opened into a pretty little library, where all the books that I thought would please Agatha were arranged.