As he leaned back, puffing away at his pipe, he had thrown a leg over the arm of his chair for greater comfort, and it really struck his valet that he had never seen a gentleman more at his ease, even one who WAS one. His casual candidness produced such a relief from the sense of strain and uncertainty that Pearson felt the color returning to his face. An opening had been given him, and it was possible for him to do his duty.
“If you wish, sir, I will make a list,” he ventured further, “and the proper firms will send persons to bring things down from London on appro.”
“What's 'appro' the English for?”
“Approval, sir.”
“Good business! Good old Pearson!”
“Thank you, sir. Shall I attend to it to-night, to be ready for the morning post?”
“In five minutes you shall. But you threw me off the track a bit. The thing I was really going to say was more important than the clothes business.”
There was something else, then, thought Pearson, some other unexpected point of view.
“What have you to do for me, anyhow?”
“Valet you, sir.”