Part 32 (2/2)
”I know! But a few minutes ago things were all gloomy and black and ugly! Now they are all bright, rose-coloured and lovely. The sun has risen! The pulse of day is beginning to beat!”
”I say, old chap--how much a thousand words do you get for that kind of thing? You roll it off as naturally as water rolls off a duck's back.”
”When do we reach London, d.i.c.k?”
”Reach London? Are you mad? Why, we haven't turned round on our homeward journey yet!”
”There's some sort of overland route, isn't there? We can get back quicker?”
”Quicker? You are mad! It was only this very morning that you were expressing regret that the time of the trip wasn't going to be double the length!”
”This morning was then! Now is now! Oh, d.i.c.k, you stony-hearted, wicked villain you!” He sprang laughingly over to the boy as he spoke. ”Why didn't you say before----”
”Keep off!”
d.i.c.k, dodging, picked up the first thing his hands rested on and a.s.sumed a burlesque att.i.tude of threat as he continued:
”a.s.sault me again with one of your hundred-ton affectionate squeezes, and I'll blow your brains out with this telescope. Throw up your hands!”
”I surrender!”
Masters laughingly fell in with the other's burlesque melodramatic humour; continued:
”I am a bear, but a tamed one. I haven't a squeeze left in me!”
”Perhaps your Royal Highness is saving them up,” suggested d.i.c.k, his eyes twinkling as he spoke. ”I begin to have a grave suspicion--garnered from some of your rambling ravings--that you have designs on my sister!”
”I have, d.i.c.k, I have!”
”Open confession is good for the soul! But you don't fool me. I should be false to every sense of brotherly duty if I failed to warn her against your embraces. I shall bear the marks of one of them--on my shoulder--to the grave.”
”Dear old d.i.c.k!” Masters started forward impulsively: ”I am ever so sorry that----”
”Keep off! Keep off! If you don't I'll scream for help!”
Masters' thoughts went off at a tangent. Love is a leveller. Even authors, under the influence of that other circ.u.mstance to which all flesh is heir, are not superior to a pa.s.sion for the conjunction of octavo sheets and pens. It found expression in Masters' exclamation:
”The letters!”
d.i.c.k, inexperienced in such matters, failed to understand. His denseness was irritating. He was aware of that, but only with intent to provoke, e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed:
”Eh?”
”The letters! Don't you understand? We haven't touched port yet--not near it.”
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