"Yes, Mater, you know I will," said he hoarsely. A crowd of half a dozen
men standing on the other side of Dr. Angus began to yell greetings and
farewells to the man called Louis while the grey lady's eyes and his
held each other for a moment in a passionate glance of appeal and
ratification.
"Cheerio, Farne," called someone.
"Farne, don't get wet!" yelled someone else. There was a chorus of
cheers and catcalls.
"Buck up, Mater," he called with another long glance. Then, waving his
hat to the others he called cheerfully, "Give my respects to Leicester
Square, you chaps."
A group of stewards in white jackets began to whistle the song and
someone on the boat deck sang it in a high falsetto. Someone behind
Marcella was holding a piece of white ribbon that went right across the
water to the tender; as the boat's speed accelerated the frail thread
snapped and the girl in whose hand it was clasped, a very thin, anaemic
looking girl, gave a choking sob.
"My only sister," she said to no one in particular. "There she is, and
here am I. They wouldn't pass her for Australia, because they say she's
got consumption."
"What a shame!" murmured Marcella, waving frantically to the doctor
while from the tender came the deep, gay voices of the students who had
cheered Louis singing "We want more Beer" to the tune of "Lead Kindly
Light.
Pages:
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117