She told me
she was dining at Lady Sabinet's, and looking in at one or two
places later." He eyed his papers in Chilcote's listless
hand.
Chilcote smiled satirically. "Eve is very true to society,"
he said. "I couldn't dine at the Sabinets' if it was to make
me premier. They have a butler who is an institution--a sort
of heirloom in the family. He is fat, and breathes audibly.
Last time I lunched there he haunted me for a whole night."
Blessington laughed gayly. "Mrs. Chilcote doesn't see ghosts,
sir," he said; "but if I may suggest--"
Chilcote tapped his fingers on the table.
"No. Eve doesn't see ghosts. We rather miss sympathy there."
Blessington governed his impatience. He stood still for some
seconds, then glanced down at his pointed boot.
"If you will be lenient to my persistency, sir, I would like
to remind you--"
Chilcote lifted his head with a flash of irritability.
"Confound it, Blessington!" he exclaimed. "Am I never to be
left in peace? Am I never to sit down to a meal without
having work thrust upon me? Work--work--perpetually work? I
have heard no other word in the last six years.
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