You had better let me go again. On Monday Charvill had still not returned, and the major duly presented himself at Mrs Chalkney’s house in Grosvenor Square, thanking his stars that his friend Roding would not be there to spoil sport. And, if it had not been for a taste for plotting, which was continually getting him into scrapes, he might have been accounted a respectable member of society. “I imagine,” Sir John said, “that your sister would acquaint him with it. I ought to stay the night through; but I'm late now for an operation at the hospital. “I must explain to her. No matter. I understand nothing of what you say.
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