But Corliss herded her particularly to the door, and gave no heed.
"A-turning ladies out!" she sniffed, with a stumble over the threshold;
"No offence," Jake Cornell muttered, pacifically; "no offence."
"Good-night. Sorry," Corliss said to Blanche, with the shadow of a
forgiving smile, as she passed out.
"You're a toff! That's wot you are, a bloomin' toff!" the Virgin
howled back as he shut the door.
He looked blankly at Del Bishop and surveyed the sodden confusion on
the table. Then he walked over and threw himself down on his bunk.
Bishop leaned an elbow on the table and pulled at his wheezy pipe. The
lamp smoked, flickered, and went out; but still he remained, filling
his pipe again and again and striking endless matches.
"Del! Are you awake?" Corliss called at last.
Del grunted.
"I was a cur to turn them out into the snow. I am ashamed."
"Sure," was the affirmation.
A long silence followed. Del knocked the ashes out and raised up.
"'Sleep?" he called.
There was no reply, and he walked to the bunk softly and pulled the
blankets over the engineer.
CHAPTER XXI
"Yes; what does it all mean?" Corliss stretched lazily, and cocked up
his feet on the table. He was not especially interested, but Colonel
Trethaway persisted in talking seriously.
"That's it! The very thing--the old and ever young demand which man
slaps into the face of the universe.
Pages:
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235