"Yes," he said. "Yes, Miss Wall, that's right, we go to town every
Wednesday. No particular reason why it should be Wednesday, but old
gentlemen somehow do better--don't you think so?--with method and
regular habits."
"I'm sure you know what's best for Mr. Saffron," said Delia. "You've
known him a long time, haven't you?"
Mr. Naylor drew a little nearer and listened. The General had put
himself into the corner, a remote corner of the room, and sat there with
an uneasy and rather glowering aspect.
"Oh no, no!" answered Beaumaroy. "A matter of weeks only. But the dear
old fellow seemed to take to me--a friend put us in touch originally. I
seem to be able to do just what he wants."
"I hope your friend is not really ill, not seriously?" This time the
question was Mrs. Naylor's, not Miss Delia's.
"His health is really not so bad, but," he gave a glance round the
company, as though inviting their understanding, "he insists that he's
not the man he was."
"Absurd!" smiled Naylor. "Not much older than I am, is he?"
"Only just turned seventy, I believe.
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