But behold, there
entered a bore, a long-faced man with a yellow waistcoat, much dreaded by
all the members; he stood a while at one of the tables, fingering
newspapers and eyeing the solitary. Harvey heard a step, looked up, and
shuddered.
The bore began his attack in form; Harvey parried with as much resolution
as his kindly nature permitted.
'You know that Dr. Shergold is dying?' fell casually from the imperturbable
man.
'Dying?'
Munden was startled into attention, and the full flow of gossip swept about
him. Yes, the great Dr. Shergold lay dying; there were bulletins in the
morning papers; it seemed unlikely that he would see another dawn.
'Who will benefit by his decease?' inquired the bore. 'His nephew, do you
think?'
'Very possibly.'
'A remarkable man, that--a _most_ remarkable man. He was at Lady Teasdale's
the other evening, and he talked a good deal. Upon my word, it reminded one
of Coleridge, or Macaulay,--that kind of thing. Certainly most brilliant
talk. I can't remember what it was all about--something literary. A sort of
fantasia, don't you know. Wonderful eloquence. By the bye, I believe he is
a great friend of yours?'
'Oh, we have known each other for a long time.
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