“There's grit in Dick,” said the Nilghai, an hour later, when the room was emptied of all save the Keneu.
“It was the sacred call of the war-trumpet. Did you notice how he answered to it? Poor fellow! Let's look at him,” said the Keneu.
The excitement of the talk had died away. Dick was sitting by the studio table, with his head on his arms, when the men came in. He did not change his position.
“It hurts,” he moaned. “God forgive me, but it hurts cruelly; and yet, y'know, the world has a knack of spinning round all by itself. Shall I see Torp before he goes?”
“Oh, yes. You'll see him,” said the Nilghai.
CHAPTER XIII
The sun went down an hour ago,
I wonder if I face towards home;
If I lost my way in the light of day
How shall I find it now night is come?
—Old Song
“Maisie, come to bed.”
“It's so hot I can't sleep. Don't worry.”