Immediately the boys fell in line for the opening exercises, which consisted of an examination by the Girl of their general appearance.
“Let me see your hands,” she said to the man nearest to her; a glance was sufficient, and he was expelled from her presence. “Let me see yours, Sonora,” she commanded.
Holding his hands behind his back the man addressed moved towards her slowly, for he was conscious of the grime that was on them. Before he had spoken his apology she ordered him none too gently to go and wash them, ending with an emphatic:
“Yes’m,” was his meek answer, though he called back as he disappeared: “Been blackenin’ my boots.”
The Girl took up the word quickly.
“Boots! Yes, an’ look at them boots!” And as each man came up to her, “An’ them boots! an’ them boots! Get in there the whole lot o’ you an’ be sure that you leave your whisky behind.”
When all had left the room save Nick, who stood with her cape on his arm near the desk she suddenly became conscious that she still had her hood on, and at once began to remove it—a proceeding which brought out clearly the extraordinary pallor of her face which, generally, had a bright, healthy colouring. Now she beckoned to Nick to draw near. No need for her to speak, for he had caught the questioning look in her eyes, and it told him plainer than any words that she was anxious to hear of her lover. He was about to tell her the little he knew when with lips that trembled she finally whispered:
“Have you heard anythin’? Do you think he got through safe?”
Nick nodded in the affirmative.