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Updated: June 8, 2025
"Ah'm goin' to sleep," said Chrisfield. He stretched himself out on the pile of equipment at the end of the car. Andrews sat down near him and stared at his mud-caked boots, running one of his long hands, as brown as Chrisfield's now, through his light short- cut hair. Chrisfield lay looking at the gaunt outline of Andrews's face against the light through half-closed eyes.
The word "gleefully" had been scratched out, and then restored in place of "scornfully," which had at first been substituted for it. It was plain that Harley was not quite certain as to how much a woman of Miss Andrews's type would care for a special attention of this nature, even if she cared for it at all.
"Oh, Anne," gasped Diana, fairly falling on the former's neck and weeping with relief and delight, "oh, Anne we thought you were drowned and we felt like murderers because we had made you be Elaine. And Ruby is in hysterics oh, Anne, how did you escape?" "I climbed up on one of the piles," explained Anne wearily, "and Gilbert Blythe came along in Mr. Andrews's dory and brought me to land."
"Say, Andy," said Chrisfield, still holding on to Andrews's hand, "Ah went A.W.O.L. 'cause a sergeant...God damn it; it's weighin' on ma mind awful these days.... There's a sergeant that knows." "What you mean?" "Ah told ye about Anderson...Ah know you ain't tole anybody, Andy." Chrisfield dropped Andrews's hand and looked at him in the face with an unexpected sideways glance.
The waiter disappeared. "Thankee, Yank," roared the man in khaki. The waiter brought a tall narrow yellow glass. The man in khaki took it from his hand, drank it down at a draught and handed back the empty glass. Then he spat, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, got with difficulty to his feet and shambled towards Andrews's table.
The river was very full, and welled up above its banks, the way the water stands up above the rim of a glass filled too full. From the water came an indefinable rustling, flowing sound that rose and fell with quiet rhythm in Andrews's ears.
Phillips was in the back of the room hearing Prissy Andrews's Latin, Diana whispered to Anne, "That's Gilbert Blythe sitting right across the aisle from you, Anne. Just look at him and see if you don't think he's handsome." Anne looked accordingly.
No, Sir Simon, said I, that can't be, because the ladies' journey hither makes a glass of canary a proper cordial for them: but I won't refuse; because I will do myself the honour of drinking good health to you, and to all this worthy company. Said good Lady Darnford, to my master, I hope, sir, we shall have Mrs. Andrews's company at table.
"Here it is.... Why didn't you come earlier?" The sharp air of the ruddy winter evening, sparkling in John Andrews's nostrils, vastly refreshing after the stale odors of the hospital, gave him a sense of liberation. Walking with rapid steps through the grey streets of the town, where in windows lamps already glowed orange, he kept telling himself that another epoch was closed.
A swaying shadow appeared at the end of the plank, standing out against the haze of light from the houses behind the poplar trees. Andrews put out a hand to catch him, as he reached the side of the barge. The old man sprawled against the cabin. "Don't bawl me out, dearie," he said, dangling an arm round Andrews's neck, and a hand beckoning vaguely towards his wife.
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