"
Gammon did her bidding. He ascended lightly and tapped at the door
Mrs. Clover indicated. A cough sounded from within; then a voice
which the visitor recognized, saying," Come in." On the bed, but
fully dressed, lay a tall, meagre man, with a woollen comforter
about his neck. The room was in good order, and warmed by a fire,
which the sufferer's condition seemed to make very necessary. He
fixed his eyes on Gammon, as if trying to smile, but defeated in the
effort by pain and misery.
"I'm here, you see," he said hoarsely. "There's no doubt about me
now."
"Got a bad cold, eh?" replied the other, as cheerfully as he could.
"Yes, a cold. Always have a cold. Would you mind reaching me the
kettle?"
He poured out some brandy from a bottle which stood on the floor,
and mixed it with a little hot water. Gammon the while observed him
with much curiosity. In five years or a little more he had become an
old and feeble man; his thin hair was all but completely grey, his
flesh had wasted and discoloured, his hand trembled, his breath came
with difficulty.
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