BLAYNE. Phew! The Judge ought to be hanged in his own store-godown. Hi,
khitmatgar! Pour a whiskey-peg, to take the taste out of my mouth.
CURTISS. (Royal Artillery.) That's it, is it? What the deuce made you dine at
the Judge's? You know his bandobust.
Blayne. 'Thought it couldn't be worse than the Club, but I'll swear he buys
ullaged liquor and doctors it with gin and ink (looking round the room.) Is
this all of you tonight?
DOONE. (P.W.D.) Anthony was called out at dinner. Mingle had a pain in his
tummy.
Curtiss. Miggy dies of cholera once a week in the Rains, and gets drunk on
chlorodyne in between. "Good little chap, though. Any one at the Judge"s,
Blayne?
Blayne. Cockley and his memsahib looking awfully white and fagged. "F(".male
girl--couldn'tcatch the name--on her way to the Hills, under the Cockleys"
charge--the Judge, and Markyn fresh from Simla--disgustingly fit.
Curtiss. Good Lord, how truly magnificent! Was there enough ice? When I mangled
garbage there I got one whole lump--nearly as big as a walnut. What had Markyn
to say for himself?
Blayne. "Seems that every one is having a fairly good time up there in spite of
the rain. By Jove, that reminds me! I know I hadn'tcome across just for the
pleasure of your society.
Pages:
1146
1147
1148
1149
1150
1151
1152
1153
1154
1155
1156
1157
1158
1159
1160
1161
1162
1163
1164
1165
1166
1167
1168
1169
1170