Grey and the young doctor.
They were all very civil to him, and upon the whole, he spent a pleasant
evening. On the next day, about noon, the squire sent for him. He had
been told at breakfast that it was the squire's intention to see him in
the middle of the day, and he had been unable, therefore, to join
Mountjoy's shooting-party.
"Sit down, Mr. Annesley," said the old man. "You were surprised, no
doubt, when you got my invitation?"
"Well, yes; perhaps so; but I thought it very kind."
"I meant to be kind; but still, it requires some explanation. You see, I
am such an old cripple that I cannot give invitations like anybody else.
Now you are here I must not eat and drink with you, and in order to say
a few words to you I am obliged to keep you in the house till the doctor
tells me I am strong enough to talk."
"I am glad to find you so much better than when I was here before."
"I don't know much about that. There will never be a 'much better' in
my case. The people about me talk with the utmost unconcern of whether I
can live one month or possibly two. Anything beyond that is quite out of
the question." The squire took a pride in making the worst of his case,
so that the people to whom he talked should marvel the more at his
vitality.
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