"As Sir Timothy's physician, I forbid you to tell him." "Is Sir Timothy ill ?" The canon's light eyes grew rounder with alarm.
"He is to undergo a dangerous operation to-morrow morning." "God bless my soul!" "He desires this evening--possibly his last on earth--to be a calm and unclouded one," said the doctor.

"Respect his wishes, Birch, as you would respect the wishes of a dying man." "Do you mean he won't get over it ?" said the canon, in a horrified whisper.
"You always want the _t's_ crossed and the _i's_ dotted," said Blundell, impatiently.

"Of course there is a chance--his only chance.
He's a d----d plucky old fellow.

I never thought to like Sir Timothy half so well as I do at this moment." "I hope I don't _dislike_ any man," faltered the canon.

"But--" "Exactly," said the doctor, dryly.
"But what shall I do with Peter's letter ?" said the unhappy recipient.
"Not one word to Sir Timothy.