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But how did you come to hear of Randall and Phyllis?" "Never mind," said I, "I did. And if Gedge is angry, I can to some extent sympathize with him." "But he's not. Not the least little bit in the world," she declared, lighting a cigarette. "Gedge and Randall are as thick as thieves, and Phyllis won't have anything to do with either of them."
Then he mooned listlessly up and down the streets for an hour till his clothes were dry, and then turned into a public-house to get a brush down and while away another hour. Still the vision of Reginald standing where he had last seen him with young Gedge at his side haunted him and spoiled his pleasure.
"I'd have you to know," said Randall, "that I spoke classical English." "Quite so," said I. "But the men of to-day speak Saxon English, Cockney English, slang English, any damned sort of English that is virile and spontaneous. As I say, you're a clever fellow. Can't you see my point? Speech is an index of mental attitude. I bet you what you like Phyllis Gedge would see it at once.
"I've always voted conservative, like my father before me, Sir Anthony, and like yourself I've given my boy to my country. I've no dealings with unpatriotic people like Gedge, as you know very well." "Of course I do," cried Sir Anthony. "And that's why I ask you what the devil you mean by calling England an abstraction. For us, she's the only thing in the world.
He would hold a position not degrading to a gentleman; he would associate with men of intellect and breeding; he would even have the joy of helping his mother to many a little luxury which, as long as he remained in London, he could never have given her. He quickened his pace, and reached home. Gedge had been there, spiritless and forlorn, and had left as soon as he could excuse himself.
I retorted by pointing out that worry over his insane behaviour please remember that above our deep unchangeable mutual affection, a violent surface quarrel was raging would more surely and swiftly kill her than unhappy knowledge. Her quick brain had already connected Gedge, Boyce, and his present condition as the main factors of some strange problem. "Her quick brain!" I cried.
"It sort of knocks one's life to bits, doesn't it?" said he. "We've nothing left." "We have our country." "Our country isn't our only son," said the other dully. "No. She's our mother," said Sir Anthony. "Isn't that a kind of abstraction?" "Abstraction!" cried Sir Anthony, indignantly. "You must be imbibing the notions of that poisonous beast Gedge."
I mentioned this to Sir Anthony. "Yet," I said, "I don't think he had anything to do with it." "Why?" "It would have been far too much moral exertion " "You call it moral?" Sir Anthony burst out angrily. I pacified him with an analysis, from my point of view, of Randall's character. Centripetal forces were too strong for the young man. I dissertated on his amours with Phyllis Gedge.
"Anyhow, that's as may be.... The beam torpedo tube will just bear nicely in a minute." The white teeth beneath the rubber eye-piece of the periscope showed for an instant in a broad grin. "Won't old man Gedge jump!" "Starboard beam tube ready!" Sir William replaced his eye-glass. A sudden bead of perspiration ran down and vanished into his left eyebrow.
Gedge was chief of the commercial part of the expedition, and his manner proclaimed it. Thin-lipped, cunning-eyed, but strong and self-reliant, he was absorbed in the chances of trade. He had been twenty years in the Marquesas islands. A shrewd man among kanakas, unscrupulous by his own account, he had prospered.
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