Torpenhow came to his side, while the Nilghai passed over quietly to the piano
and opened it. Binkie, making himself as large as possible, spread out upon the
sofa with the air of one who is not to be lightly disturbed.
"Well," said the Nilghai to the two pairs of shoulders, "have you never seen
this place before?"
A steam-tug on the river hooted as she towed her barges to wharf. Then the boom
of the traffic came into the room. Torpenhow nudged Dick.
"Good place to bank in--bad place to bunk in, Dickie, isn't it?"
Dick's chin was in his hand as he answered, in the words of a general not
without fame, still looking out on the darkness--"'My God, what a city to
loot!'"
Binkie found the night air tickling his whiskers and sneezed plaintively.
"We shall give the Binkie-dog a cold," said Torpenhow. "Come in," and they
withdrew their heads. "You'll be buried in Kensal Green, Dick, one of these
days, if it isn't closed by the time you want to go there--buried within two
feet of some one else, his wife and his family."
"Allah forbid! I shall get away before that time comes. Give a man room to
stretch his legs, Mr. Binkie." Dick flung himself down on the sofa and tweaked
Binkie's velvet ears, yawning heavily the while.
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