Muscularly, too, he was very strong, as was shown by his athletic
record at Cambridge. Whether his strength extended to his constitution
was another matter. Mrs. Walrond, noticing his unvarying colour, which
she thought unduly high, and the transparent character of his skin,
spoke to her husband upon the matter.
In his turn Septimus spoke to the old local doctor, who shrugged
his shoulders and remarked that the Arnotts had been delicate for
generations, "lungy," he called it. Noticing that Mr. Walrond looked
serious, and knowing something of how matters stood between Anthony and
Barbara, he hastened to add that so far as he knew there was no cause
for alarm, and that if he were moderately careful he thought that
Anthony would live to eighty.
"But it is otherwise with his brother," he added significantly, "and for
the matter of that with the old man also."
Then he went away, and there was something in the manner of his
going which seemed to suggest that he did not wish to continue the
conversation.
From Anthony, however, Barbara soon learned the truth as to his brother.
His lungs were gone, for the chill he took in the Crimea had settled on
them, and now there was left to him but a little time to live.
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