I here's
everything in it. The trouble with me is I can't face the music. It
calls for a life where a fellow must go in for straight, steady work,
self-denial, and that sort of thing; and I'm too Bohemian for that, and
too lazy. But that fellow Craig makes one feel horribly uncomfortable.'
Graeme put his head on one side, and examined me curiously.
'I believe you're right about yourself. You always were a luxurious
beggar. But that's not where it catches me.'
We sat and smoked and talked of other things for an hour, and then
turned in. As I was dropping off I was roused by Graeme's voice--
'Are you going to the preparatory service on Friday night?'
'Don't know,' I replied rather sleepily.
'I say, do you remember the preparatory service at home?' There was
something in his voice that set me wide awake.
'Yes. Rather terrific, wasn't it? But I always felt better after it,' I
replied.
'To me'--he was sitting up in bed now--'to me it was like a call to
arms, or rather like a call for a forlorn hope. None but volunteers
wanted.
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