"Oh, he must be a terribly shady character," said Mrs. Hadwell with a delighted chuckle. "I think all this is thrilling. Do tell me his address. I won't hurt him. I only want to see for myself what he is doing and how he is. I'll—I'd like to take him a glass of jelly and some grapes. What's the matter, Mr. Amherst?"
"Excuse me. The idea of Ricossia in conjunction with the glass of jelly and the grapes upset me for the moment, that is all."
"I'd take him some champagne if Lynn wasn't with me. In my most abandoned moments I never forget that I am a chaperon so I'm afraid the champagne will have to be left behind. But I will go and see him—Mr. Amherst, do tell me."
Amherst smilingly shook his head.
"He wouldn't like it, I know."
"You're quite right," said Lynn, regarding the speaker, gratefully. "I'm sure he wouldn't like it. I wouldn't, in his place. Do—do you ever see him, Mr. Amherst?"
"Often. I frequently run over and just have an eye to him. I always expect to find him frozen or burnt to death or something of that sort. But Providence always looks after people of that kind. He'll die in his bed, no fear—the little brute!"
Lynn started and flushed.
"I thought you liked him," she said with involuntary reproach in her tone.
"Well—fact is, I don't. What's more, I don't know anyone who does. The boy's unfit to live and about equally unfit to die—poor little chap! It's wonderful, though, the way he lasts. He's a living example of a theory I've always held, namely, that consumption doesn't really kill, no matter what the hardships may be, until the consumptive loses interest in life and living. Then, he goes very quickly."