"I've got a couple of sons in France, trying their best to do it," he replied.
That was the first I had ever heard of it. I had always regarded him as a gnarled old bachelor without human ties. Where he had kept the sons and the necessary mother I had not the remotest notion.
"You're proud of them?"
"I am."
"And if one was killed, would you grudge his grave a few roses? For the sake of him wouldn't you sacrifice a world of roses?"
His manner changed. "I don't understand, sir. Is anybody killed?"
"Didn't I say that all these roses were for Mrs. Connor?"
He dropped his secateur. "Good God, sir! Is it Captain Connor?"
The block-headed idiot of a Marigold had not told him! Marigold is a very fine fellow, but occasionally he manifests human frailties that are truly abominable.
"We are going to sacrifice all our roses, Timbs," said I, "for the sake of a very gallant Englishman. It's about all we can do."