Good night."
He went out of the room.
"That's distinctly one for you," said the Nilghai. "I told you it was hopeless
to meddle with him. He's not pleased."
"He'd swear at me if he weren't. I can't make it out. He has the go-fever upon
him and he won't go. I only hope that he mayn't have to go some day when he
doesn't want to," said Torpenhow.
* * * * * *
In his own room Dick was settling a question with himself--and the question was
whether all the world, and all that was therein, and a burning desire to
exploit both, was worth one threepenny piece thrown into the Thames.
"It came of seeing the sea, and I'm a cur to think about it," he decided.
"After all, the honeymoon will be that tour--with reservations; only . . .
only I didn't realise that the sea was so strong. I didn't feel it so much when
I was with Maisie. These damnable songs did it. He's beginning again."
But it was only Herrick's Nightpiece to Julia that the Nilghai sang, and before
it was ended Dick reappeared on the threshold, not altogether clothed indeed,
but in his right mind, thirsty and at peace.
The mood had come and gone with the rising and the falling of the tide by Fort
Keeling.
CHAPTER IX
"If I have taken the common clay
And wrought it cunningly
In the shape of a god that was digged a clod,
The greater honour to me.
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