This was addressed to the footman. He announced:

'Dinner to-day at half-past six, as usual, sir,' bowed, and retired.

Mr. Andrew pored on the floor, and rubbed his hair back on his head.
'An odd world!' was his remark.

Evan lifted up his face to sigh: 'I 'm almost sick of it!'

'Damn appearances!' cried Mr. Andrew, jumping on his legs.

The action cooled him.

'I 'm sorry I swore,' he said. 'Bad habit! The Major's here--you know
that?' and he assumed the Major's voice, and strutted in imitation of the
stalwart marine. 'Major--a--Strike! of the Royal Marines! returned from
China! covered with glory!--a hero, Van! We can't expect him to be much
of a mourner. And we shan't have him to dine with us to-day--that's
something.' He sank his voice: 'I hope the widow 'll bear it.'

'I hope to God my mother is well!' Evan groaned.

'That'll do,' said Mr. Andrew. 'Don't say any more.'

As he spoke, he clapped Evan kindly on the back.

A message was brought from the ladies, requiring Evan to wait on them.
He returned after some minutes.