He paused again, appeared to lose himself in the past, looked up and suddenly exclaimed: "You are ridiculous in that damned thing! Oblige me by getting out."
The young man extracted himself and sat down on the malachite bench. It was more exposed than the trench and the fumes of the gas bomb that his father had hurled were hazardous still. Additional protection from them was needed and he said: "What will you do about Benny?"
The old man disliked to be questioned. On the arm of his chair he beat with his fingers a quick, brief tattoo.
"Benny belongs to the Place. His father served me there. His grandfather served yours. You don't get such people nowadays."
Negligently the young man smoothed his tie. "Very picturesque and feudal. But I don't want him."
His father did not seem to hear, or to care. He was afar, wandering from it. "Ever notice that he has only one thumb? Same way with his father. Probably a family trait. I wish there were more families like 'em. This house is full of trollops and rascals. So is Newport. The house at Newport is full of rapscallions. Believe I'll offer it to the Government for a hospital. I wish to God Sally would come over and run it. Do you ever hear from her?"
The young man stood up. "Never."
"I don't doubt she is well rid of Balaguine. I've run into a baker's dozen of Russian princes. All canaille. What she wanted to marry him for, God only knows, and in saying that I exaggerate. Nice mess they have made of things there. Are you going? Oblige me by touching the bell."
The young man touched it and, while he was at it, something else. "Couldn't you oblige me by shipping Benny to Newport?"
The old man motioned. It was as though he dismissed it. "My compliments to her mother and remember that I have your word. Don't dilly-dally. Good God, sir, can't you realise that any day now you may be drafted? You've no time to lose. If I were your age, I'd enlist to-morrow. Don't stand on one foot, you make me nervous."