After the startling revelations of the previous evening, the horrible dreams of the night, and the strange hypnotic shock of the early morning I felt excited and desperate. Events had moved so swiftly that I could hardly believe that less than twenty-four hours previously I had not even heard of Gaboon, I had known next to nothing of gorillas (beyond our old friend Alfred), and I certainly hadn't the remotest idea of ever chasing and capturing them.
Naturally, I had realized that I should soon shake the dust of the Government offices from my eager feet. I had known, too, that, with a man like Gran'pa in the family, life could not much longer run in the old, accustomed rut. But I had not expected the climax to come so suddenly.
It was a glorious spring morning, and as I left the house I felt myself possessed of a new body and mind.
I came through the town like a man in a dream—everything looked so bright and fresh and clean—so different!
At "The King's Head" Hotel I paused. A 'bus was coming over the bridge, all aglow with yellow sunlight, and I saw a girl in a bright blue jumper standing on the pavement there, looking upstream. Another who passed me had gold in her hair, and another had the whitest teeth I've ever seen.
"Away with the office!" I thought. "Why should I bother myself?"
The river called me. I had no deep desire to go on it, but I wanted very much to walk by it, and hear its merry gurgle and chatter. Why should I catch the next train?
I crossed over to the tobacconist's shop at the corner, replenished my pouch, and left my suit-case with him for awhile. Then I went down the steps and on the riverside, where the boatmen were busy cleaning and painting their punts and skiffs. Everywhere was warm sunlight, and the smell of fresh air, and the pleasant sound of running water.
As I continued my way downstream something within me sang for joy. It was a sort of requiem. Dead was the stodgy, stuffy old office! Dead the daily train journey! Dead the scramble for mid-day lunch in the dust of the city! Dead, at last, was the unending sameness of every to-morrow. . . .
I smoked like fury! By the time I reached the Old Deer Park, I found myself knocking out my pipe and filling and lighting it again. Onwards I went, until I reached and entered Kew Gardens. In there, I watched the wild ducks disporting themselves on the pond, and began wondering if any of them came from Africa.