“It came of seeing the sea, and I'm a cur to think about it,” he decided. “After all, the honeymoon will be that tour—with reservations; only... only I didn't realise that the sea was so strong. I didn't feel it so much when I was with Maisie. These damnable songs did it. He's beginning again.”
But it was only Herrick's Nightpiece to Julia that the Nilghai sang, and before it was ended Dick reappeared on the threshold, not altogether clothed indeed, but in his right mind, thirsty and at peace.
The mood had come and gone with the rising and the falling of the tide by Fort Keeling.
CHAPTER IX
“If I have taken the common clay
And wrought it cunningly
In the shape of a god that was digged a clod,
The greater honour to me.”
“If thou hast taken the common clay,
And thy hands be not free
From the taint of the soil,
thou hast made thy spoil
The greater shame to thee.”
—The Two Potters
HE DID no work of any kind for the rest of the week. Then came another Sunday. He dreaded and longed for the day always, but since the red-haired girl had sketched him there was rather more dread than desire in his mind.
He found that Maisie had entirely neglected his suggestions about line-work. She had gone off at score filed with some absurd notion for a “fancy head.” It cost Dick something to command his temper.
“What's the good of suggesting anything?” he said pointedly.
“Ah, but this will be a picture,—a real picture; and I know that Kami will let me send it to the Salon. You don't mind, do you?”