|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 9
There had come upon him suddenly such a strong impression that his
friend was in some awful difficulty, some scrape so terrible as to make
him lonely beyond the reach of help, that Max, who was a good-hearted
fellow and a stanch friend, spoke with something which might almost be
called tenderness:
"We've always been chums, now, haven't we? And a row between you and
Doreen, or between you and my father, wouldn't make any difference to
me. I--I suppose you don't mean to give me the cold shoulder for the
future, eh?"
Dudley had turned his back upon him, and was standing on the hearth-rug,
looking down at the fire, in an attitude which betrayed to his friend
the uneasiness from which he was suffering. It was an attitude of
constraint, as different as possible from any in which Max had ever seen
him.
Another pause. Dudley seemed unable on this occasion to give a simple
answer to a simple question without taking thought first. At last he
laughed awkwardly and half turned toward Max.
"Why, of course not," said he, but without heartiness. "Of course not.
Though it will be rather awkward, mind, for us to see much of each other
just at first, after my having got kicked out like that, won't it?"
The tone in which Max answered betrayed considerable surprise and
perplexity.
"Kicked out!" he exclaimed. "My father said he hardly got a word out
before you took yourself off in a huff."
Dudley turned round quickly and faced him this time, with a sullen look
of defiance on his dark face.
"Well, the wise man doesn't wait to be kicked out," said he. "He removes
himself upon the slightest hint that such a proceeding on his part would
be well received."
"You were a little too quick on this occasion," replied Max, dryly, "for
my father has got himself into hot water, and mother had a fit of
crying, while Doreen--"
Something made Max hesitate to tell his friend how Doreen had taken his
desertion. Max himself was ready to stand by his friend, whatever
difficulties the latter might be in. But Doreen, his lovely sister, must
have a lover without reproach.
At the mention of the girl's name there came a slight change over
Dudley's face--a change which struck the sensitive Max and touched him
deeply. Dudley took a step in the direction of his bedroom, and pulled
out his watch. As he did so a railroad ticket jerked out of his pocket
with the watch and fell to the ground.
Max saw it fall, but before he could pick it up or draw attention to it
his ideas were diverted by Dudley's next words:
"Well, you '11 excuse me, old chap. I've got to see a friend off by the
midnight train to Liverpool."
As he spoke Dudley turned, with his hand on the door, to cast a glance
at Max. He seemed to be asking himself what he should tell the other.
And then he took a step toward his friend and began an explanation,
which, as his shrewd eyes told him, Max required.
"The fact is that I got into the way of a beastly accident at Charing
Cross just now. Woman run over--badly hurt. Got myself covered with
blood. Ugh!"
Max was convinced that the shudder was genuine, although he had
doubts--of which he was ashamed--about the tale itself.
And how did that explain the proposed journey?
Dudley went on:
"I've only just got time to change my clothes and make myself decent.
See you in a day or two. Sorry I can't stay and have a pipe with you and
one of our 'hard-times' suppers."
He was on the point of disappearing into the inner room, when Max
stopped him.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|