I had a reply from the country: "So glad you are within reach again! When will you come and see us?"
I was not very keen on going to Riddings. After all, it was Lord Lathkill's place, and Lady Lathkill, his mother, was old and of the old school. And I always something of a sansculotte, who will only be king when breeches are off.
"Come to town," I wrote, "and let us have lunch together."
She came. She looked older, and pain had drawn horizontal lines across her face.
"You're not a bit different," she said to me.
"And you're only a little bit," I said.
"Am I!" she replied, in a deadened, melancholic voice. "Perhaps! I suppose while we live we've got to live. What do you think?"
"Yes, I think it. To be the living dead, that's awful."
"Quite!" she said, with terrible finality.
"How is Lord Lathkill?" I asked.