"Have you never been here before?" asked the doctor, rather abruptly.

"Never," said John Crewys, smiling. "I understand my cousins are not
much given to entertaining visitors. I have never, in fact, seen any
of them but once before. That was at Sir Timothy's wedding, twenty
years ago."

"Barely nineteen," said the doctor.

"I believe it was nineteen, since you remind me," said John, slightly
astonished. "I remember thinking Sir Timothy a lucky man."

"I dare say _he_ looked much about the same as he does now," said the
doctor.

"Well," John said, "perhaps a little slimmer, you know. Not much. An
iron-grey, middle-aged-looking man. No; he has changed very little."

"He was born elderly, and he will die elderly," said the doctor,
shortly. "Neither the follies of youth nor the softening of age
will ever be known to Sir Timothy." He paused, noting the surprised
expression of John's face, and added apologetically, "I am a native of
these parts. I have known him all my life."

"And I am--only a stranger," said John. He hesitated, and lowered his
voice. "You know why I came?"

"Yes, I know. I am very glad you did come," said the doctor. His tone
changed. "Here is Lady Mary," he said.