"Gad! he reminds me of Kitty Warren!
Well, I'll be damned" (he was eventually) "I wonder whether the old
gal had a son as well as that spitfire Vivie?!"
Michael whispered a word or two to one of the Masters, and David was
presently summoned to attend the Benchers and their distinguished
guests in the inner chamber to which they withdrew for wine and
dessert. Rossiter made room for him, and he had to drink a glass of
port with the Benchers. Every one was very gracious. Rossiter said:
"I was a sort of godfather to him, don't you know. David! you must
do me credit and make haste to take silk and become a Judge." Crofts
moved from where he sat next to a Bishop. ("Damn it all! I like
bein' respectable, but why _will_ they always put me next a Bishop
or an Archdeacon? It spoils all my best stories.") He came
over--dragging his chair--to Rossiter and said "I say! Will you
introduce me to our young friend here?" He was duly introduced.
"H'm, Williams? _That_ doesn't tell me much. But somehow your face
reminds me awfully of--of--some one I used to know. J'ever have a
sister?" "No," said David.
Crofts, he noticed, had aged very much in the intervening eight
years. He must now be no more than--58? But he had become very stout
and obviously suffered from blood pressure without knowing it. He
moved away a little, and David heard him talking to a Master about
Lady Crofts, who had come up to London for the season and how they
were both very anxious about his boy--"Yes, he had two children, a
boy and a girl, bless 'em--The boy had been ill with measles and
wasn't makin' quite the quick recovery they expected.
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