CHAPTER XV
A HUMAN "CATCH"
It's not often that the weather in England is really appropriate to one's mood, but the sunshine that was streaming down into Edith Terrace as I banged the front door at half-past eight the next morning seemed to fit in exactly with my state of mind. I felt as cheerful as a schoolboy out for a holiday. Apart altogether from the knowledge that I was going to spend a whole delightful day with Tommy and Joyce, the mere idea of getting on the water again was enough in itself to put me into the best of spirits.
I stopped for a moment at the flower-stall outside Victoria Station to buy Joyce a bunch of violets—she had always been fond of violets—and then calling up a taxi instructed the man to drive me to Fenchurch Street.
I found Tommy and Joyce waiting for me on the platform. The former looked superbly disreputable in a very old and rather dirty grey flannel suit, while Joyce, who was wearing a white serge skirt with a kind of green knitted coat, seemed beautifully in keeping with the sunshine outside.
"Hullo!" exclaimed Tommy. "We were just getting the jim-jams about you. Thought you'd eloped with Sonia or something."
I shook my head. "I never elope before midday," I said. "I haven't the necessary stamina."
I offered Joyce the bunch, which she took with a smile, giving my hand a little squeeze by way of gratitude. "You dear!" she said. "Fancy your remembering that."
"Well, come along," said Tommy. "This is the train all right; I've got the tickets and some papers."
He opened the door of a first-class carriage just behind us, and we all three climbed in. "We shall have it to ourselves," he added. "No one ever travels first on this line except the Port of London officials, and they don't get up till the afternoon."