"I shall not go at once," said Silwood. "I have not quite finished; but there is no need for any one to stay."
He gathered the letters together in a bunch, and passed them on to Williamson.
"By the way," he asked, looking at the clerk with a sharp glance, "how does Mr. Eversleigh strike you? I'm afraid he's not very well."
"I thought he seemed poorly—very poorly," replied Williamson. "I felt very sorry for him, and I ventured to suggest—having been with the firm so many years, sir—to him that he needed a holiday."
"You did! That was good. It's my own idea, too. And what did he say?"
"He said he was all right, or soon would be; there was nothing much the matter with him. Said it was the heat."
"But about taking a holiday?"
"He said it was not at all necessary."
"Well, I agree with you, Mr. Williamson. It seems to me that he does need a change. I told him that also. I urged him to take a month off, but he won't hear of it. He keeps on saying he is not ill really—only a bit out of sorts owing to the hot weather. And it is hot, isn't it? I must confess I feel this frightful heat very much; the office is horribly close. Unless the weather becomes cooler, I declare I shall require a holiday myself. And if Mr. Eversleigh still persists in refusing a holiday—well, I believe I shall take one. I haven't had a real vacation for a very long time. But I had much rather he went."
"You certainly have had no holiday, Mr. Silwood, for a long time—three or four years, it must be," said Williamson, immensely surprised at the turn the conversation had taken. "When would you think of going, sir?"