“Much obliged to you, I am sure,” said John Bradfield, rather more drily than he meant to do.
Mr. Graham-Shute, who took an intelligent interest in his cousin’s affairs, stared at him in astonishment.
“What, don’t you want to see him?” he asked. “I thought I was bringing you the best piece of news you’d had for a long day. For you’ve generally such a good memory for your old friends, and I know that you and Marrable were always great chums. Did you fall out, or what?”
“No,” said John Bradfield, recovering himself. “But the longest memory is not eternal, and it’s seventeen years since I saw him last. I’ll do all I can for him, certainly, for the sake of auld lang syne.”
The words were hardly out of his mouth when a footman knocked at the door, and informed his master that a person wished to see him, a person who gave the name of Marrable.
“Oh, yes, I’ll go and see him myself,” said John Bradfield, who hoped that his cousin would, in the meantime, take himself off, and allow him to welcome his old friend Marrable en tête-à-tête.
“I daresay he’ll be too shy, after all these years, to come in at all,” said he, as he went out. But what he thought was, “I’ll do my best to get rid of him.”
Graham-Shute’s voice, however, rang out cheerily after him:
“You have forgotten Marrable, if that’s what you think of him.”