He went out with her and then returned to his sisters.
"Does it mean the end is near?" asked Mrs. Donaldson in a very hushed voice.
"It means it's nearer," he answered grimly.
Undoubtedly this was a wild end for one of the most respectable lives ever lived in Edinburgh. Outside, the gale was now positively shrieking; and inside, he presumed the cork was already popping.
"What a pity!" said Gertrude.
"Oh, I don't know about that," replied her sister. "It keeps them happy. George's uncle tried to sing after they thought all was over."
Her brother frowned. The possibility that the head of Walkingshaw & Gilliflower might exit singing exceeded his gloomiest forebodings. He wished women did not have that habit of talking about unpleasant things. Could they not keep the like of that to themselves?
Even as he frowned the second tap disturbed them.
"What is it now?" he snapped.
"Could you tell me," asked the nurse, "where Mr. Walkingshaw keeps his cigars?"