"You'd have been more than human if you hadn't. I was out again after it
in five minutes--as soon as I missed it; you'd gone, but I concluded
you'd seen it. He scribbles dozens like that."
"You seem to admit my conclusion about his mental condition," she
observed stiffly.
"I always admit when I cease to be able to deny. But don't let's stand
here talking. Really, for all I know, he may be dying. His heart seems to
me very bad."
"Go and ask Dr. Irechester."
"He dreads Irechester. I believe the sight of Irechester might finish
him. You must come."
"I can't--for the reasons I've told you."
"Why? My misdeeds? Or your rules and regulations? My God, how I hate
rules and regulations! Which of them is it that is perhaps to cost the
old man his life?"
Mary could not resist the appeal; that could hardly be her duty, and
certainly was not her inclination. Her grievance was not against poor old
Mr. Saffron, with his pitiful delusion of greatness, of a greatness, too,
which now had suffered an eclipse almost as tragical as that which had
befallen his own reason.
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