“It don’t mean anything of the kind,” protested Robert. “It’s a question of duty.”
“You’d easily get a good berth on shore,” she argued, “and earn good money, and then we could see each other pretty of’en. As it is, I may not see you from one year’s end to the other.”
“Absence makes the ’eart grow fonder.”
“Yes,” said the young woman pointedly, “in books.”
“Well,” remarked Robert, after a pause, “now that we’ve cleared up this argument, ’ave some more tea.”
“No, thank you,” said Trixie with reserve. “I think I must be getting along ’ome. Looks as though we shall ’ave a shower presently, I think.”
“Trixie,” he said, trying to take her hand, “don’t be a young silly.”
“After that complimentary remark,” she said rising, “it’s most certainly time for me to be off. To be told in the Zoo above all places in the world that I’m a silly—”
“I didn’t say you was a silly,” urged Robert with great perturbation, “I asked you not to go and be one. Do stop, and let’s be good friends the same like—”
He was following the indignant young woman when the waiter interposed, offering a delicate hint to the effect that his services were usually deemed worthy of reward; by the time Robert had found threepence Trixie had disappeared in the direction of the camels. Other visitors watched the hurried distracted efforts of the scarlet-faced sailor lad on his erratic voyage of discovery with as much interest as though he had been an escaped resident of the Gardens.