Then she called a hansom and drove home. \"The servants will hear you!\" \"I don't care! Why do you?” She cried. Sir John, who was standing outside, looked past him at the girl still sitting in the shadow. He started a dozen stories, but they all ended in the waste-basket. At the same moment a martial flourish, proceeding from cow's horns, tin canisters filled with stones, bladders and cat-gut, with other sprightly, instruments, was struck up, and, enlivened by this harmonious accompaniment, the troop reached its destination in the best possible spirits for an encounter. I just wanted a breath of air. He seemed to be hesitating between two courses of action. Any man might have endeavoured to protect himself in this fashion, a man with no one to care, with an unnameable terror at the thought (as if it mattered!) of being buried in alien earth, far from the familiar places he loved. You could, if you were ambitious to round out your education, memorize certain popular foreign phrases.
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