' "And who
was she?" he asked.
George looked slowly at the 'man of the world's' fattish, sallow face,
and a little grim smile lurked about the curves of his cheeks and his
heavy-lidded eyes.
'No, no, my fine fellow,' he thought, 'I'm not going to tell you.' For
though he mixed with Dartie a good deal, he thought him a bit of a cad.
"Oh, some little love-lady or other," he said, and chalked his cue.
"A love-lady!" exclaimed Dartie--he used a more figurative expression.
"I made sure it was our friend Soa...."
"Did you?" said George curtly. "Then damme you've made an error."
He missed his shot. He was careful not to allude to the subject again
till, towards eleven o'clock, having, in his poetic phraseology, 'looked
upon the drink when it was yellow,' he drew aside the blind, and gazed
out into the street. The murky blackness of the fog was but faintly
broken by the lamps of the 'Red Pottle,' and no shape of mortal man or
thing was in sight.
"I can't help thinking of that poor Buccaneer," he said. "He may be
wandering out there now in that fog. If he's not a corpse," he added
with strange dejection.
"Corpse!" said Dartie, in whom the recollection of his defeat at
Richmond flared up. "He's all right.
Pages:
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420