"You remember how we planned it," continued De Gollyer, artfully blundering; "boat to Tangier, from Tangier bang across to Fez."
At this Lightbody, watching the tracing finger, said with some irritation, "No, no, down the coast first."
"I beg your pardon," said De Gollyer; "to Fez, my dear fellow."
"My dear boy, I know! Down the coast to Rabat."
"Ah, now, you're sure? I think—"
"And I know," said Lightbody, raising his voice and assuming possession of the atlas, which he struck energetically with the back of his hand. "I ought to know my own plan."
"Yes, yes," said De Gollyer, to egg him on. "Still you're thoroughly convinced about that, are you?"
"Of course, I am! My dear Jim—come, isn't this my pet idea—the one trip I've dreamed over, the one thing in the world I've longed to do, all my life?" His eyes took energy, while his forefinger began viciously to stab the atlas. "We go to Rabat. We go to Magazam, and we cut—so—long sweep, into the interior, take a turn, so, and back to Fez, so!"
This speech, delivered with enthusiasm, made De Gollyer reflect. He looked at the somewhat revived Lightbody with thoughtful curiosity.
"Well, well—you may be right. You always are impressive, you know."