Colonel Tempest wheeled round.
It was Marshall, John's valet, who had spoken to him, and who was now regarding the slumbering rough with the resigned melancholy of an undertaker.
The quarter struck.
"Sorry to have kept you waiting, sir," said Marshall, after a pause, in which Colonel Tempest wondered why he did not go.
And then, at last, Colonel Tempest understood.
He put his hand feebly to his head.
"Oh, my God!" he said below his breath, and was silent.
Marshall cleared his throat.
There are situations in which, as Johnson has observed respecting the routine of married life, little can be said, but much must be done.
The slumbering backslider slid a little further back in his seat, and gurgled something very low down about "jolly good fellows," until, his voice suddenly going upstairs in the middle, he added in a high quaver, "daylight does appear."