The rather rigid look of the shoulders came from
his having had his collar-bone twice broken in the mines.
The little terrier of a sergeant, in dirty khaki, looked at him
furtively.
'She's your Missis?' he asked, jerking his head in the direction of the
departed woman.
'Yes, she is,' barked the man. 'She's that, sure enough.'
'Not seen her for a long time, haven't ye?'
'Sixteen years come March month.'
'Hm!'
And the sergeant laconically resumed his smoking.
The landlady was coming back, followed by the three young soldiers, who
entered rather sheepishly, in trousers and shirt and stocking-feet. The
woman stood histrionically at the end of the bar, and exclaimed:
'That man refuses to leave the house, claims he's stopping the night
here. You know very well I have no bed, don't you? And this house doesn't
accommodate travellers. Yet he's going to stop in spite of all! But not
while I've a drop of blood in my body, that I declare with my dying
breath. And not if you men are worth the name of men, and will help a
woman as has no one to help her.'
Her eyes sparkled, her face was flushed pink. She was drawn up like an
Amazon.
The young soldiers did not quite know what to do. They looked at the man,
they looked at the sergeant, one of them looked down and fastened his
braces on the second button.
'What say, sergeant?' asked one whose face twinkled for a little
devilment.
Pages:
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183