He had hardly closed his door when Sefton appeared.
“Can I help you?” he said.
“To pack my portmanteau? Did you ever pack your own?”
“Oftener than you, I suspect! I never had but one orderly I could bear about me, and he’s dead, poor fellow! I shall see him again, though, I do trust, let believers in dirt say what they will! Never till I myself think no more, will I cease hoping to see my old Archie again! Fellows must learn something through the Lufas, or they would make raving maniacs of us! God be thanked, he has her in his great idiot-cage, and will do something with her yet! May you and I be there to see when she comes out in her right mind!”
“Amen!” said Walter.
“And now, my dear fellow,” said Sefton, “if you will listen to me, you will not go till to-morrow morning. No, I don’t want you to stay to breakfast! You shall go by the early train as any other visitor might. The least scrap of a note to Lady Tremaine, and all will go without remark.”
He waited in silence. Walter went on putting up his things.
“I dare say you are right!” he said at length. “I will stay till the morning. But you will not ask me to go down again?”
“It would be a victory if you could.”
“Very well, I will. I am a fool, but this much less of a fool, that I know I am one.”