"I was thinking, ma'am," he said, poising a forkful of bacon, "of what I may call the sadness of life."
"Life is sad," agreed Mrs. Evans.
"Ah!" said Rosa, the maid, who, being a mere slip of a girl and only permitted to join in these symposia as a favour, should not have spoken at all.
"That verlent case upstairs," proceeded Mr. Flannery, swallowing the bacon and forking up another load. "Now, there's something that makes your heart bleed, if I may use the expression at the breakfast table. That young fellow, no doubt, started out in life with everything pointing to a happy and prosperous career.
"Good home, good education, everything. And just because he's allowed himself to fall into bad 'abits, there he is under lock and key, so to speak."
"Can he get out?" asked Rosa. It was a subject which she and the cook discussed in alarmed whispers far into the night.
Mr. Flannery raised his eyebrows.
"No, he cannot get out. And, if he did, you wouldn't have nothing to fear, not with me around."
"I'm sure it's a comfort feeling that you are around, Mr. Flannery," said Mrs. Evans.
"Almost the very words the young fellow's sister said to me when she left him here," rumbled Mr. Flannery complacently. "She said to me, 'Sergeant-Major,' she said, 'it's such a relief to feel that there's someone like you 'ere, Sergeant-Major,' she said. 'I'm sure you're wonderful in any kind of an emergency, Sergeant-Major,' she said." He sighed. "It's thinking of 'er that brings home the sadness of it all to a man, if you understand me. What I mean, here's that beautiful young creature racked with anxiety, as the saying is, on account of this worthless brother of hers...."