“That’s something. I like to feel I command my muscles. But perhaps you think you ought to humor a sick man?”
Miss Niven blushed. “Not at all, Mr. Carson. The characters are properly shaped; you do write better. Besides, I think I’d be afraid to cheat you.”
“My despotic days are gone. Authority deserts—but after all I’m not yet dying, and I will not want you for some time. Type the letters and then take a walk; but if you’d sooner rest, I sent some chocolates and a novel by an author you admire to your room. You can go.”
Miss Niven went. At the beginning Jasper had daunted her; now she thought she knew him she was his willing servant. Although his humor was grim and freakish, he was kind. When she crossed the terrace Jasper addressed the group on the steps.
“My business is transacted; the levee may begin,” he said. “Levee, however, is perhaps not the proper word, because I don’t know when I shall get up.”
“Then Sir Antony was not encouraging?” said Mrs. Carson in a sympathetic voice.
Jasper gave her a smile. Since his doctors prescribed quiet and bracing air, he had gone to Netherhall. Alan had urged it, and although he did not think Mrs. Carson was disturbed about him, she was a polite hostess. She knew his importance, and he was her nephew’s employer.
“I have no particular grounds to be encouraged, or daunted. One tries to be philosophical.”
“But the fellow told you something” said Alan.
“Sir Antony took some wine and knitted his brows. Since his remarks are expensive, perhaps he felt he ought not to be extravagant. In the meantime, mine are not, and I talked. Sir Antony made some notes; I think that was all. It’s possible he gave my nurse his confidence, but I doubt.”