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Updated: May 26, 2025
He held himself a person of broad indulgences, and would point openly to his consumption of tea-cakes. But this afternoon a miasma hung over him. Hilda saw it, and bent herself, with her graphic recital, to dispel it, perceived it thicken and settle down upon him, and went bravely on to the end. Mr. Macandrew and Mr. Molyneux Sinclair lived and spoke before him.
Hanson listened to this with the air of one who was being reassured in a doubtful enterprise. "You mistake me, Chief," he said. "You are only improving my reasons for going. Not only is the ship crank, but so is her skipper. Now tell me . . ." Macandrew frowned at his junior, and his curiously pale eyes became distinctly inhuman. I believe he thought his counsel was being laughed at.
It did not appear to be a place where anything was destined to happen. It merely looked like rain. Macandrew might be inside with his crowd of firemen and greasers. Behind the brass grille there a clerk, solitary and absorbed in his duties, bent over a pile of ships' articles, and presented to the seamen in the public space beyond him only the featureless shine of a bald head.
"Six inches of freeboard, barring her false bulwarks of deal boards, and she's going out to I forget the name of the place, but I could show you where it is within a hundred miles on a map that doesn't give its name. It's up the Pondurucu." Macandrew made no sign, and Hanson, his humour a little damped, spoke more seriously.
"That's all right. Good-morning." Miss Howe approached the door, the blue glance of Macandrew pursuant. "No notices for two Wednesdays, eh? We'll have to see about that. I was thinkin' of transferrin' your space to the third page; it's a more advantageous position and no extra charge but ye'll not mention it to Jimmy." Miss Howe lifted an arrogant chin.
I hate him. I'll never forgive him now." Colonel MacAndrew and his wife began to talk to her together. They were astonished. They told her she was mad. They could not understand. Mrs. Strickland turned desperately to me. "Don't <i you> see?" she cried. "I'm not sure. Do you mean that you could have forgiven him if he'd left you for a woman, but not if he's left you for an idea?
And to that end, while all the world was reading of the certain failure of the new flying machine, MacAndrew was soaring and curvetting with great amplitude and dignity over the Epsom and Wimbledon divisions; and Banghurst, restored once more to hope and energy, and regardless of public security and the Board of Trade, was pursuing his gyrations and trying to attract his attention, on a motor car and in his pyjamas he had caught sight of the ascent when pulling up the blind of his bedroom window equipped, among other things, with a film camera that was subsequently discovered to be jammed.
The captain went around to stand beside the official, and his crew clustered on their side of the bars, with their caps in their hands. "A good start that," said Hanson to me. "Perhaps, after all, we never shall start. Must be a rum chap, that Purdy." He told me the Medea's crowd was there, but perhaps Macandrew had already signed, and so would not appear.
"Never mind," said Hilda, again wrapped in thought, "don't apologise it's near enough. Well, Mr. Macandrew," her tone came to a point, "what is the Stanhope Company's advertisement worth a month to the Chronicle?" "A hundred rupees maybe there or thereabouts;" and Mr. Macandrew, with a vast show of indifference, picked up a letter and began to tear at the end of it.
His fingers were twirling the little ivory pig he carries as a charm on his watchguard. The pig is supposed to assist him when he is in a difficulty. He raised his eyes. "Anyhow," he despaired to me with irrelevance, "I can't do anything for him." I waited for the chance of a clue. "I thought," Macandrew quietly soliloquized, "he knew better than that.
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