“Not got a wrestling match on with yourself, or anything like that? Well, come to dinner at the house. Seven-thirty. Don’t be late.”
Sam went out. As he passed through the outer office, Miss Milliken intercepted him.
“Oh, Mr. Sam!”
“Yes?”
“Excuse me, but will you be seeing Sir Mallaby again to-day?”
“I’m dining with him to-night.”
“Then would you—I don’t like to disturb him now, when he is busy—would you mind telling him that I inadvertently omitted a stanza? It runs,” said Miss Milliken, closing her eyes, “‘Trust no future, howe’er pleasant! Let the dead past bury its dead! Act, act, in the living present, Heart within and God o’erhead!’ Thank you so much. Good afternoon.”
§ 2
Sam, reaching Bruton Street at a quarter past seven, was informed by the butler who admitted him that his father was dressing and would be down in a few minutes. The butler, an old retainer of the Marlowe family, who, if he had not actually dandled Sam on his knees when an infant, had known him as a small boy, was delighted to see him again.
“Missed you very much, Mr. Samuel, we all have,” he said affectionately, as he preceded him to the drawing-room.