“Has anybody else been to see me?”
The valet turned away his eyes. “Mrs. Thomas Forsyte came last Monday fortnight.”
“How long have I been ill?”
“Five weeks on Saturday.”
“Do you think I'm very bad?”
Adolf's face was covered suddenly with crow's-feet. “You have no business to ask me question like that! I am not paid, sir, to answer question like that.”
Swithin said faintly: “You're a peppery fool! Open a bottle of champagne!”
Adolf took a bottle of champagne—from a cupboard and held nippers to it. He fixed his eyes on Swithin. “The doctor said—”
“Open the bottle!”
“It is not—”