want things said to them.... Things to remember...I can’t. I’m tired out.”
“Don’t trouble,” whispered Dr. Martineau, suddenly remorseful.
But Sir Richmond was also remorseful. “Give them my love,” he said. “Best love... Old Martin. Love....”
Dr. Martineau was turning away when Sir Richmond spoke again in a whisper. “Best love... Poor at the best....”
He dozed for a time. Then he made a great effort. “I can’t see them, Martineau, until I’ve something to say. It’s like that. Perhaps I shall think of some kind things to say—after a sleep. But if they came now.... I’d say something wrong. Be cross perhaps. Hurt someone. I’ve hurt so many.... People exaggerate.... People exaggerate—importance these occasions.”
“Yes, yes,” whispered Dr. Martineau. “I quite understand.”
§ 4
For a time Sir Richmond dozed. Then he stirred and muttered. “Second rate.... Poor at the best.... Love.... Work. All....”
“It had been splendid work,” said Dr. Martineau, and was not sure that Sir Richmond heard.
“Those last few days ... lost my grip.... Always lose my damned grip.
