“Mac is going,” was the quiet reply. “Please don’t ask me more.”
No more was asked, and indeed, there was little time for talking. They launched themselves at once into the task of sorting and packing,—a real job. They had been in India four months. In that time they had collected a considerable treasure, rare silk gowns, carved ivory gods, green jade, and much else. All these must be stored away in lockers.
“When will we be back?” Gale asked.
“Perhaps never,” was the solemn response.
And so they sifted, sorted and packed, sorted, sifted and packed again, until at last one modest sized duffle bag apiece held all that would go with them.
Darkness was falling when they had finished.
“It’s dinner time!” Gale exclaimed. “How I wish Jimmie were here to spend these last hours of the big city with me!”
“Jimmie? Oh, yes,—that Ferry Command boy,” Isabelle murmured absent mindedly.
In the end, the four of them, Gale, Isabelle, Jan and Than Shwe had dinner together in a neat little place around the corner. It was run by a Chinaman.
“We’re headed for China,” said Isabelle. “Might as well get used to Chinese cooking.”