It was in a
strained, quiet voice that she said:
"I'm not going to talk any more about it. You'll get it when you say
good-bye to me in Sydney," and so she turned away.
Just as the _Oriana_ sailed, about six o'clock she saw him come aboard
alone. His face was swollen, his eye blackened by a bruise; his collar
was splashed with blood and his white drill suit very dirty and
crumpled. She had seen Ole Fred carried on board some time ago by
sympathetic, rather maudlin friends. She guessed that war had flamed up
between the incongruous allies. Mrs. Hetherington, rather breathlessly,
confirmed her suspicion.
"He fought about you--Ole Fred said you'd been in his cabin, and young
Mr. Fame went for him," she said enviously.
"Of course I've been in his cabin. It's Jimmy's cabin--I had to get
Jimmy's clean things," she said indignantly.
Mrs. Hetherington put on an air of helpfulness.
"You should always be so careful, dearie. I am. Oh _most_ careful! I
never let dear Mistah Petahs put more than the tip of his shoe over my
doorway. And as for going into his cabin--My _dear_! There is no need to
provoke scandal; you will learn as you grow older to do things more
discreetly."
"Discreet! I hate the word! And Careful! I couldn't be careful!" she
cried hotly, but Mrs. Hetherington tapped her playfully on the arm and
turned away, murmuring, "Naughty, naughty!"
It was very quiet on deck that night, with Louis and Ole Fred both below
in their bunks; a few Arabs had come aboard and sat in a corner of the
deck eating their evening meal, which they could not take under the same
roof as unbelievers; afterwards, as the sun sank into the purple
distance of the desert leaving a sky like a palette splashed by a
child's indiscriminating hand, they began an eerie, monotonous chant
that went on for hours.
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