... And
after all those years to meet you as you was going to the public for a jug
of beer, and 'ere we are man and wife sitting side by side in our own
'ouse."
Esther had been in the "King's Head" now nearly a year. The first Mrs.
Latch had got her divorce without much difficulty; and Esther had begun to
realise that she had got a good husband long before they slipped round to
the nearest registry office and came back man and wife.
Charles opened the door. "Mr. Randal is in the bar, sir, and would like to
have a word with you."
"All right," said William. "Tell him I'm coming into the bar presently."
Charles withdrew. "I'm afraid," said William, lowering his voice, "that
the old chap is in a bad way. He's been out of a place a long while, and
will find it 'ard to get back again. Once yer begin to age a bit, they
won't look at you. We're both well out of business."
Mr. Randal sat in his favourite corner by the wall, smoking his clay. He
wore a large frock-coat, vague in shape, pathetically respectable. The
round hat was greasy round the edges, brown and dusty on top. The shirt
was clean but unstarched, and the thin throat was tied with an old black
silk cravat. He looked himself, the old servant out of situation--the old
servant who would never be in situation again.
"Been 'aving an 'ell of a time at Newmarket," said William; "favourites
romping in one after the other.
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