Dash and Dingo Read Online Free PDF Page A

haughty demeanor. “I’m sure when I get to Australia I must allow for the cultural differences there.”
    There was a tiny little smirk playing upon Dingo’s lips. “Custom, huh?”
    Henry pushed his glasses up. “Yes. When one gets excited by
    something, one becomes… a little exuberant.”
    “Okay. I have to get back to the pub and start making arrangements, get in touch with Deano and find out when he’s flying. I’ll call you later.”
    “Sure,” Henry said, still trying to collect himself.
    He didn’t get a chance, as he was suddenly enveloped in Dingo’s strong arms when the man hugged him. The slight beard on his cheek grazed against Henry’s clean-shaven one, and Henry felt as if he had suddenly been marked.
    “Custom, right?” Dingo asked, with a devilish glint in his eye. “I’m excited, you see. Exuberant.”
    Henry nodded, the burn from Dingo’s cheek finding new skin.
    Dingo let him go and picked up his hat from the table, setting it firmly upon his head. “Tooroo, then, Dash.”
    Henry nodded, and when Dingo closed the door behind him, he pressed his hand against his warmed cheek. He couldn’t help but feel the other man had seen right through his act, but somehow he didn’t mind. Which was practically akin to him breaking out and joining Diana in the Charleston.

    20 | Catt Ford and Sean Kennedy

    “What is this I hear about you going on some madcap expedition to the colonies?”
    Henry grimaced and took a sip from his cup of tea to steady himself.
    “How did you hear about that, sir?”
    James Percival-Smythe III delicately tapped the ash from the end of his cheroot and stared at his son. “Do you think that there is anything you do at that college that doesn’t come to my attention?”
    “Professor Larwood told you,” Henry said flatly.
    “He’s concerned about you.”
    “Why?”
    “He thinks you’ve come under the spell of this mad Australian with the absurd name.”
    “Dingo.”
    His father snorted to himself, as if his worst fears were confirmed.
    “Is that why you invited me over here tonight?” Henry asked.
    “No.” James III twirled his cigar ostentatiously between his fingertips.
    “Your mother thought it had been far too long since you had come to dinner.”
    “I’ve been busy,” Henry said feebly.
    “Cataloging? I had no idea it was such an absorbing activity.” His father’s tone dripped heavily with disapproval.
    “You’d be surprised, sir.”
    “I don’t know why you’re wasting your time as file clerk in some basement. My name alone would have obtained a higher-level entry position at the college for you.”
    Dash and Dingo: In Search of the Tasmanian Tiger | 21

    It was a story Henry had heard often, and he always had to give the same stock answer in reply. “That wasn’t the way I wanted to do it, sir, and you know that. I wanted to make it on my own name.”
    “You still needed mine , even to get that menial job,” his father reminded him.
    As if Henry could ever forget.
    His father sighed. “And how long will that take you?”
    “That’s why this trip is so important to me. It’s how I can make a name for myself.”
    “Your mother thinks it will more likely get you killed.”
    “I doubt it,” Henry said, trying not to choke on the heavy fumes coming from his father’s cigar.
    His father’s disappointment rolled over him in waves. “Go in and see your mother before dinner is served. I’m sure she’ll want to have one last look at you before you go off to your death.”
    Henry nodded and gladly fled.

    After a long and mostly silent dinner, Henry decided that he would rather go back to his department than his small flat.
    He switched on only the small banker’s lamp on his desk and sat in its comforting glow. He sighed heavily and rubbed his temples.
    Then the door to the office crashed open, the knob practically gouging a hole in the wall opposite. Henry jumped but relaxed again when he saw it was Dingo.
    “Haroo,” Dingo