You never read my sonnet-sequence
on Spring, did you?"
"No. What other poets did she like besides you?"
"Tennyson principally," said Eustace Hignett with a reminiscent quiver
in his voice. "The hours we have spent together reading the Idylls of
the King!"
"The which of what?" enquired Sam, taking a pencil from his pocket and
shooting out a cuff.
"The Idylls of the King. My good man, I know you have a soul which
would be considered inadequate by a common earthworm, but you have
surely heard of Tennyson's Idylls of the King?"
"Oh, _those_! Why, my dear old chap; Tennyson's Idylls of the
King! Well, I should say! Have I heard of Tennyson's Idylls of the
King? Well, really! I suppose you haven't a copy with you on board by
any chance?"
"There is a copy in my kit-bag. The very one we used to read together.
Take it and keep it or throw it overboard. I don't want to see it
again."
Sam prospected among the shirts, collars and trousers in the bag and
presently came upon a morocco-bound volume.
Pages:
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