“Van’s behaving very well now that it’s too late. There’s a regular allowance for her at his army agents. I didn’t believe a man could have changed so as he did. It was that fever did it, coming upon the shock. Poor wretch! I never saw a man so stricken down as he was at the poor girl’s funeral.”
He caught Richard’s eye.
“There, what a blundering ass I am, Dick, old man. It’s my trade to rout out all sorts of old sores. But, mum, I won’t say any more. How’s our friend the cabby?”
“Oh, quite well!”
“And Madame?”
“Excellently well. They say that perhaps Mrs Vanleigh is coming to stay with them again; but I don’t think it would be wise for the poor woman to do so.”
“Quite right,” said Pratt. “Well, I must be off and work. I’ve got an Indian case on—Jeefee Rustam versus Tomkins, and two or three more things to get out of the way before I go down to Cornwall. By the way, I met our languid friend, Flick, at the dub yesterday.”
“Well?”
“He cut me, sir. Looked bayonets, lance-points, and sabres at me. Heigho! Well, we can’t all win. Ta-ta.”
“Good-bye.”