Visitors for Jimmy
We must at this point go back to some twenty minutes earlier, to a moment when Jimmy Thesiger, emerging from the mists of sleep, was conscious of a familiar voice speaking unfamiliar words.
His sleep-ridden brain tried for a moment to cope with the situation, but failed. He yawned and rolled over again.
“A young lady, sir, has called to see you.”
The voice was implacable. So prepared was it to go on repeating the statement indefinitely that Jimmy resigned himself to the inevitable. He opened his eyes and blinked.
“Eh, Stevens?” he said. “Say that again.”
“A young lady, sir, has called to see you.”
“Oh!” Jimmy strove to grasp the situation. “Why?”
“I couldn’t say, sir.”
“No, I suppose not. No,” he thought it over. “I suppose you couldn’t.”
Stevens swooped down upon a tray by the bedside.
“I will bring you some fresh tea, sir. This is cold.”
“You think that I ought to get up and—er—see the lady?”
Stevens made no reply, but he held his back very stiff and Jimmy read the signs correctly.