765.
My predecessor left 'em, and three cases of cartridges. I've kept
the guns oiled, and will warrant the lot sound.--Now, who'll lend me
spare coolies, and stuff for sand-bags?"
"Over where?" puffed Sturgeon. "Where's he taking your Mausers?"
"Nunnery, of course."
"Oh, I say!" Mr. Forrester looked up, with an injured air. "As the
senior here, except Dr. Earle, I naturally thought the choice would be
my house."
"Right!" cried two or three voices from the foot of the table. "It
should be--Farthest off--"
All talked at once, except Chantel, who eyed them leniently, and smiled
as at so many absurd children. Kempner--a pale, dogged man, with a
pompous white moustache which pouted and bristled while he spoke--rose
and delivered a pointless oration. "Ignoring race and creed," he droned,
"we must stand together--"
Heywood balanced a pencil, twirled it, and at last took to drawing. On
the polished wood he scratched, with great pains, the effigy of a pig,
whose snout blared forth a gale of quarter-notes.
"Whistle away!" he muttered; then resumed, as if no one had interrupted:
"Very good of you, Gilly.
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