Only winded--don't you know--never hurried
so much in life. Have been in the midst of the beggars--just managed
to slip through. O Lor', give me something to drink, will you?"
Colonel Carmichael put his flask to the parched and broken lips.
"Thanks, that's better. We got your message, and are coming on like
fun. The regiment's only an hour off. You never saw Saunders in such a
fluster--it's his first big job, you know." He took another deep
draft, and wiped his mouth with the corner of his ragged tunic. "I
say--don't look at me, Miss Lois. I'm not fit to be seen." He laughed
hoarsely. "These clothes weren't made in Bond Street, and Webb assured
me that the fewer I had the more genuine I looked. I say, Colonel,
this is a lively business!"
Colonel Carmichael nodded as he helped the gasping and exhausted man
into the bungalow.
"Too lively to be talked about," he said. "I doubt if the regiment
isn't going to add itself to the general disaster."
"Oh, rot!" was the young officer's forgetful lapse into disrespect.
"The regiment will do for the beggars all right. They didn't expect us
so soon, I fancy. Just listen! I believe I've frightened them away
already. There isn't a sound."
Colonel Carmichael lifted his head. True enough, no living thing
seemed to move. A profound hush hung in the air, broken only by Mrs.
Cary's pitiful meanings.
"Oh, Beatrice, Beatrice, where are you?"
Geoffries turned his stained face to the Colonel's.
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