The flying vehicle landed. They heard it. Its crew got out, fearful but alert and with weapons handy. One stayed close by the ship, his ears shriveled with terror. The other two, weapons very much to the fore, moved cautiously to examine the aircraft which could not possibly be here.
"Oh yes," answered Joyce, "oddly enough, they were talking of him last night at the office. I went into O'Connor's room just as Forrest, who had come down with some not very clearly defined story from the Reform, was suggesting a slashing article with the view of what he called 'rousing to action' this very young man. O'Connor pooh-poohed the notion and put Forrest off; but from what he said to me afterwards, I imagine Mr. Bokenham is scarcely the man for the emergency--a good deal too lukewarm and dilettante. They won't stand that sort of thing in Brocksopp, and it's a point with our party, and especially with me, that Brocksopp should be won."
"The young fool had no business to take you through the bazaar at all!" said Coventry, with suppressed irritation.
"You swear that to me?"
And he was as good as his word. At every succeeding show to which the Master took Bruce, he was certain to run into McGilead, there as a spectator, standing with head on one side, brooding over the physical perfections of Bruce. Always the little judge was chary of his conversation with the Master. But always, he gazed upon Bruce as might an inspired artist on some still more inspired painting.
Sportsmanship can go only just so far; even in cool-nerved foxes. As the couple vanished through the night, a shrilly hideous multiple clamour of barking went up from twenty-two furry black throats. The tense hush was broken by a bedlam of raucous noise. The prisoners dashed themselves against the springy sides of their wire runs. One and another of them made desperate scrambling attempts to climb the inslanting walls that encircled them—only to fall back to the frozen ground and add their quota once more to the universal din.
"I said IBM, Willie."
This morning she sang blithely as she crossed the lawn that more nearly resembled a hay-field--sang one of the hymns she had selected for to-morrow's service, to be led by herself to her own strenuous accompaniment on the aged harmonium and the raucous voices of the village congregation. The sun shone on her hair, that glinted golden, crinkling over her little head, gathered into a then unfashionable knob at the nape of her slim, white neck. And Captain Coventry, riding along the road, looked over the privet hedge and thought he had never beheld anything on this earth to compare with its glory. Why, the girl's hair was like "kincob," like the border of a nautch woman's veil, like the work on a rajah's robe!
"A lot of things go deeper," Sandra replied, looking at him evenly. "Much deeper than you ever expect at the start."
"I'm damned if I'll go," Woodroffe announced, getting up. "Everlastingly damned if I will."详情 ➢
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