“Would Aymer really mind being met?” she questioned.
“He’d rather be left to Vespasian and Tollens.”
Tollens was the old butler.
“Won’t he ever get used to it?”
“He is afraid of becoming an invalid if he gets hardened to it.”
“But he is, isn’t he?”
“Not a bit of it. He has perfectly wonderful health. He has massage and all sorts of things to keep him up to the mark. Aymer’s as vain as a girl.”
“I don’t call it vanity. I call it pluck.” 53
Nevil groaned, “Oh, you women, old and young! But you are right—and there are my father and Christopher himself.”
Christopher to his great joy had been allowed to drive down with Aymer and Mr. Aston, and had found the journey not one mile too long. Indeed towards the end his early curiosity as to the termination had evaporated and the mile-stones had come in sight and vanished all too quickly. It had been reassuring to find Vespasian awaiting them at the door with the old butler to whom he was formally introduced as Mr. Aymer’s ward. Then having inquired of Tollens of the family’s whereabouts, Mr. Aston bore off Christopher for further introductions.