'I can see nothing, my lord.'

'Yes, yes, you can. At the other end of the room. It is a white
handkerchief. Bring it to me.'

'I beg pardon, my lord, but I cannot see any white handkerchief.
Whereabouts does your lordship mean?'

'There in the corner. If it is not a handkerchief, what is it? Walk
along till you come to it--that is it; now a little further--now your
foot is against it.'

'O that--it is not anything. It is the light reflected against the
skirting, so that it looks like a white patch of something--that is all.'

'H'm-hm. My eyes--how weak they are! I am getting old, that's what it
is: I am an old man.'

'O no, my lord.'

'Yes, an old man.'

'Well, we shall all be old some day, and so will your lordship, I
suppose; but as yet--'

'I tell you I am an old man!'

'Yes, my lord--I did not mean to contradict. An old man in one sense--old
in a young man's sense, but not in a house-of-parliament or historical