"But keep hold of yourself. Don't let this break you down. It's up to you to make Hallowell's plans good. Keep that in your head."
"'The Yellow Typhoon.'"
"That's the name. I'll describe her later. Where's your servant?"
"Out.... An eye for an eye!"
"That's the way to talk!" said Morgan, patting Mathison on the shoulder. "And nothing will hurt the Hun so much as your safe arrival in Washington.... Poor devil!" he added, under his breath.
CHAPTER V
Mathison, his pipe dead in his teeth, leaned against the starboard rail and stared with unseeing eyes. It was Sunday, the first day out of Manila. The northeast trade was blowing briskly and the blue Pacific flashed and tumbled.
Loneliness. Never had he known anything like this before. A sudden inexplicable craving for crowds, talk, laughter ... women! With Bob at his elbow, night after night, he hadn't been conscious of a void in his life. Woman. No doubt he was a madman, a kind of super-madman, to have held out as long as he had. Nerves. It was quite possible that the craving would subside and he would become normal, once his raw nerves had steadied down.