"I cannot see him anywhere here, Sister," he replied, loyalty to the retreating Fuller compelling him to avoid a direct reply. "At all events, I was left here in solitude to meditate upon the fraility of human friendship, when like a guiding star——"
"Please don't be idiotic," said Doris with mock severity. "Here is a telegram for you."
"Thank you," said the sub. promptly. "Now, won't you accept this vacant chair (believe me, it's very comfortable) and open the wretched thing for me? You know telegrams always give me a bad time. For instance, this flimsy, orange-coloured envelope might contain the information that my great-great-aunt has died and left a cool million to be divided equally between her one and only great-great-nephew and the Home for Lost and Anaemic Cats. So please open the fateful missive and read me the momentous news."
"You want a lot of humouring, Ronald," said the girl as she seated herself and began to rip open the envelope. "If all the other patients were like you——"
"Heaven forbid!" ejaculated Tressidar piously.
The wire was a "private tip" sent by a friend "up-topsides" at the Admiralty.
"Your promotion dated from the twenty-ninth," read Doris.
"Hurrah!" exclaimed Tressidar joyously, sub. no longer but a full-fledged lieutenant. "This must be my birthday."
"Also awarded D.S.O. for 'Anzac' affair," continued the girl. "Ronald, you are a lucky fellow. I congratulate you heartily. You seem to get everything you want."
Like a flash came the sailor's instinct to act promptly. Tressidar's powerful, bronzed hand closed over the girl's firm wrist.