Peace with Honour — Reading Notes

rom the brim of which the rain-drops were falling on her wind-blown hair, for the umbrella she held in her hand--a mere mass of metal spikes and shreds of silk--could only be called an umbrella by courtesy, and had evidently given way before the force of the gale.

“Any port in a storm!” she said, merrily, as she shook hands with Dick.

“I am sorry I can’t offer to lend you an umbrella,” he remarked, “for I am worse off than yourself.”

“No, I think you are more sensible,” she replied, “for an umbrella is sure to be turned inside out in this wind. You see I am prepared for rain, and I have no fear of getting wet, but I do dislike it when the rain-drops trickle down my neck.”

“Pray allow me to run across and get you an umbrella from one of those shops over there,” he said stiffly, annoyed to find his resentment against her melting under the influence of her friendly manner.

“Oh no, thank you, I couldn’t think of it,” she replied, surveying him carefully, and taking due note of his curly-brimmed hat, his long coat, the huge carnation in his buttonhole, and the immaculate spats protecting his equally spotless boots. “You are not quite dressed for running anywhere, are you?”

The resentment returned promptly in full force.

“I am sorry my appearance is displeasing to you,” he said, in a tone which he tried vainly to make a light and sportive one.

“Oh, but it isn’t at all. It is most correct--unimpeachably correct.”

“Then what is the matter with it, if I may ask?”

“I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“Thank you, I think my feelings are proof against injury.”

“It is only that I was thinking it was a pity to expose such a complete get-up to the dangers of a muddy walk. A hansom would have taken you straight from General North’s door to your destination. I could imagine you a walking advertisement of the Army and Navy Club, and why aren’t you gracing one of the windows there, as a sort of sample, you know, to show the kind of goods within?”

“Bother the girl! She sees I don’t like her, and she is taking it out of me,” was his mental comment, as he glanced at her composed face and caught a twinkle of fun in her eyes. Aloud he said, rather lamely, “You don’t know what a luxury it is to be able to array oneself in the garments of civilisation once more, after spending years, as one might say, in uniform. But I see the rain has stopped. May I call you a cab, or walk with you?”

“Oh no, thanks; I am only going to one of those shops.”

“But you will allow me to see you across the street?”

This time his escort was not refused, and he left her at the entrance of the shop to which she was bound, and in which, as he noticed with a shudder, the wares displayed were chiefly surgical instruments. As he lifted his hat and turned away, he found his state of mind not at all in accordance with the serene calm of his destination. Everything Miss Keeling had said seemed to be rankling in his breast, and he anathematised her mentally as he walked. What business had the girl to say such things? Nay, rather, what did it signify if she did say them? Why in the world should it affect him? And yet, here he was wasting his time and spoiling his short leave at home by thinking about her. It was bad enough that they were doomed to be fellow-travellers all the way to Kubbet-ul-Haj, but at least he would dismiss her from his mind while he was in England; and by way of making a beginning he would burn that photograph which he had cherished so long.