Mrs. Orly brushed busily at her bodice, peering down with indrawn chin. The room was close with gas. If Mr. Hancock would only come down and give her the excuse of attending to his room.
“What you doing s’aafnoon?” asked Mr. Leyton.
“I, my boy, I don’t know,” said Mr. Orly with a heavy sigh, “string myself up, I think.”
“You’d much better string yourself round the Outer Circle and take Lennard’s advice.”
“Good advice my boy—if we all took good advice ... eh Miss Hens’n? I’ve taken twenty grains of phenacetin this morning.”
“Well, you go and get a good walk,” said Mr. Leyton clattering to his feet. “S’cuse me, Mater.”
“Right my boy! Excellent! A Daniel come to judgment! All right Ley—get on with you. Buck up and see Buck. Oh-h-h my blooming head. Excuse my language Miss Hens’n. Ah! Here’s the great man. Good morning Hancock. How are you? D’they know you’re down?”
Mr. Hancock murmured his greetings and sat down opposite Miriam with a grave preoccupied air.
“Busy?” asked Mr. Orly turning to face his partner.
“Yes—fairly” said Mr. Hancock pleasantly.