I saw Bertram Filson last night—her brother.
Philip.
[Pricking up his ears.] You did? Where?
Sir Timothy.
At the club—the Junior Somerset. He came in late, looking a bit out of gear, and ate a mouthful of dinner and drank a whole bottle of Pommery; and afterwards he joined me in the smoking-room and—and was exceedingly communicative.
Philip.
[Attentively.] Oh?
Sir Timothy.
I didn't encourage him to babble—[turning] 'twas he that insisted on confiding to me what had occurred——
Philip.