“I say, Julia,” said he, “things seem a bit sour, don’t they?... I suppose you and Netherby will be wanting to get married, too, and all that sort of tomfoolery—and I had hoped to have coloured a meerschaum pipe for him as a wedding-present. I did begin one, but it made me so jolly sick. I have started a sailor on it now. Awfully ripping chap! Said he didn’t mind doing it for half-a-crown if I supplied the ’baccy. He’s a terrific clever fellow—he can spit fifteen feet! I measured it.... I was very lucky to get him”—he sighed heavily—“but I don’t see how the deuce I shall pay him for the job now.”
Julia put her hand on Noll’s shoulder:
“You are such a sadly vulgar boy at times, Noll,” she said. She dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief.
“What are you sniffing about, Julia?” he asked, knitting his brows. “The mother has taken a jolly nice top-floor, I can tell you. One of the rooms is whopping big. We are going to do our own cooking—on such a rummy little stove. It’ll be a tremendous lark, won’t it? Roof slopes like a hen-roost.... I once poached an egg in the lid of a biscuit-tin over two candles—Jeroosalem! it did take a time—but it was an egg—it never quite got out of the wollopy condition, I don’t know why—and it burst half-way through the business—I think I kept jogging it up too often with a pencil to see if it were stiffening. But it was the most eggy egg I ever tasted.”
Julia laughed lightly to smother a sob:
“You are a ridiculous boy, Noll,” she said.
Noll held her out at arms’ length and looked at her keenly:
“What are you sniffing about, Julia? Anyone been annoying you?”
Caroline had stolen back to the room. She walked over to Julia and put her hand on her shoulder:
“It’s all right, Julia,” she said gently—“no one will be any the worse for it. It’s always darkest before the dawn.”