The works of Rudyard Kipling . eceived so many con-fidences both from Torpenhow and Dick thathe did not trouble his tulip-ears to listen. Dick was permitted to see the girls off. Theywere going by the Dover night-boat; and theyhoped to return in August. It was then Feb-ruary, and Dick felt that he was being hardlyused. Maisie was so busy stripping the smallhouse across the Park, and packing her can-vases, that she had no time for thought. Dickwent down to Dover and wasted a day therefretting over a wonderful possibility. WouldMaisie at the very last allow him one smallkiss? He reflected that h
The works of Rudyard Kipling . eceived so many con-fidences both from Torpenhow and Dick thathe did not trouble his tulip-ears to listen. Dick was permitted to see the girls off. Theywere going by the Dover night-boat; and theyhoped to return in August. It was then Feb-ruary, and Dick felt that he was being hardlyused. Maisie was so busy stripping the smallhouse across the Park, and packing her can-vases, that she had no time for thought. Dickwent down to Dover and wasted a day therefretting over a wonderful possibility. WouldMaisie at the very last allow him one smallkiss? He reflected that he might capture herby the strong arm, as he had seen women cap-tured in the Southern Soudan, and lead heraway; but Maisie would never be led. Shewould turn her grey eyes upon him and say,Dick, how selfish you are!* Then his cour-age would fail him. It would be better, afterall, to beg for that kiss. Maisie looked more than usually kissable asshe stepped from the night-mail on to thewindy pier, in a grey waterproof and a little. 190 THE LIGHT THAT FAILED grey cloth traveling-cap. The red-haired girlwas not so lovety. Her green eyes were hol-low and her lips were dry. Dick saw the trunksaboard, and went to Maisies side in the dark-ness under the bridge. The mail-bags werethundering into the forehold, and the red-haired girl was watching them. Youll have a rough passage to-night, saidDick. Its blowing outside. I suppose I maycome over and see you if Im good? You mustnt. I shall be busy. At least, ifI want you Ill send for you. But I shall writefrom Vitry-sur-Marne. I shall have heaps ofthings to consult you about. Oh, Dick, youhave been so good to me!—so good to me! Thank you for that, dear. It hasnt madeany difference, has it? I cant tell a fib. It hasnt—in that dont think Im not grateful. Damn the gratitude! said Dick, huskily,to the paddle-box. Whats the use of worrying? You knowI should ruin your life, and youd ruin mine,as things are now. You remember what yousaid
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