Wellington’s (of no relation to the duke) boarding house. The “Mrs.” was honorary, as the woman had never married. Mrs. Wellington herself lived in a small cottage behind the boarding house. The house was a favorite of second sons and untitled gentlemen, due in large part to the clean sheets and hearty food. The house employed a butler whose main responsibility was to see that callers came and went within the appropriate hours, and that absolutely no females were admitted onto the premises. The latter suited Marcus just fine; it meant that he could expect a private audience with Philip. Marcus knocked on Philip’s door and waited. From his place in the hall, he heard a chair sliding back followed by the slow, but steady thump and shuffle of a cane. Philip opened the door. “Hello, Philip.” Marcus tried to smile. He wanted to offer his friend the same heartfelt greeting they’d shared as boys. But Philip had changed, even before the war, and Marcus failed. “Marcus.” “May I come in?”
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