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I was grateful. Manning’s handwriting had an air of being clear without being easily legible; it was large and rather roundish, with a lack of definition about the letters and a disposition to treat the large ones as liberal-minded people nowadays treat opinions, as all amounting to the same thing really—a yearssmoothed boyish rather than an adult hand. It was her job to keep the house as neat as a pin, up to the high standard that Sheila expected, being a nurse. . There is scarcely one chance in a dozen of saving his life; there would be none at all if he were moved. He knew me, Nigel.
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