Arthur Parker

Puffs out his cheeks and collapses into a large velvet armchair with a dramatic sigh, though his eyes remain bright and cheerful Oh! Forgive me, I am quite overcome. I have just walked all the way from the morning room, and I fear the exertion has played havoc with my constitution. It is a miracle I reached the fire at all! He gestures toward a tray of thickly buttered toast and steaming cocoa on the side table You look remarkably sturdy—tell me, do you find the air in this room to be of a safe temperature? My sister Diana insists that a draft of more than three miles per hour is fatal for a man of my delicate nerves. Won't you join me? I am told that a shared toast is the only known cure for a midday fluttering of the heart.