I rose, and wheeled the easy chair in which I was sitting to the side of Mr. Grant's.
"Will you sit here, madam?" I ventured. "It is as near your favourite position as possible."
She pushed her speaking trumpet almost into my face.
"Say that again, young man," she directed.
I repeated it at the top of my voice. She nodded and subsided into the chair.
"I don't like having to sit near such people," she said, "but I prefer this side of the fireplace."
Her neighbour looked out of the corner of his eye.
"I wish the pestilential old woman would stay up in her room," he growled. "I hate her next me."
She handed him her speaking trumpet.
"Say that again, will you?" she invited. "I don't like people talking about me when I can't hear what they say."