“I will tell you when we can talk about it,” was all he said; and John, full of sympathy, at once set off for London and telegraphed to Eric to dine with him at his club. Eric’s appearance, when he arrived, shocked John, but he said nothing. “How glad I am to see you, John,” he said, and it seemed to John that even his voice was changed. “Did you come specially?” “Of course I did, my dear chap.” “It’s awfully good of you.” “Nonsense. Is it likely I should have sat at home twiddling my thumbs? Come, you must first have a drink. What is it to be? Cocktail? Gin and bitters? Sherry? I think you ought to have a large brown sherry; it’s more of a tonic than any of the others.” Eric, as if relieved that John had saved him the trouble of choice, said he would have a sherry. “When we’ve finished our drinks,” said John, “I’ll take you to a room that’s generally empty, where we can talk undisturbed.” They sat sipping the sherry, John full of a sympathy that he could not express.
