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Updated: May 10, 2025
The Durgans watched him through it all, sardonically. And he would stand after breakfast at times in the light of the window at Lady Grove, a little apart, with two fingers of one hand stuck between his waistcoat-buttons and his chin sunken, thinking, the most preposterous little fat man in the world. It made my aunt feel, she said, "like an old Field Marshal knocks me into a cocked hat, George!"
Then he began to chafe at Lady Grove, fretted by a chance jest he had overheard at a dinner. "This house, George," he said. "It's a misfit. There's no elbow-room in it; it's choked with old memories. And I can't stand all these damned Durgans! "That chap in the corner, George. No! the other corner! The man in a cherry-coloured coat. He watched you!
"They hadn't much idea of ventilation when this was built." One of the panelled rooms was half-filled with presses and a four-poster bed. "Might be the ghost room," said my uncle; but it did not seem to me that so retiring a family as the Durgans, so old and completely exhausted a family as the Durgans, was likely to haunt anybody.
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