"Sir, you're not feeling well. You should at least eat a little. How will your body take it if you don't?" the maid said with concern, holding food to Patrick Grant's mouth.
Patrick Grant sat on the sofa, a blanket over his frail body, and coughed weakly a couple of times. He was playing chess against himself.
"If only Annabelle were here... she would always play chess with me. Now she's gone, and I have no one to play with... COUGH, COUGH..." the old man said sorrowfully.
The maid said, her own voice tinged with sadness, "Sir, please don't be upset. Miss Linton and the Young Master weren't a good match, so it's for the best that they separated. A man like the Young Master will have no trouble finding someone."
