The Lighthearted Quest Read Online Free PDF Page B

passport and all the rest. The person to whom her thoughts now turned was a young man in the Treasury, who in a rather indeterminate way was an admirer—that is to say she hadrefused him once, he had sulked for some months, and latterly had begun to hang round her again. He was very nice; it was even possible that some day she might decide to marry him—meanwhile she had rather a bad conscience about having kept him in the dark regarding her trip, and he would, if free, certainly be delighted to take her out to dinner and a movie. So she asked for another call. (She made no offer to pay—this was all the Forres Line’s fault, anyhow.)
    â€œIs that the Treasury? Mr. Consett, please . . . Geoffrey? Oh, good . . . Dinner tonight? Yes, I’d love to; in fact I was going to suggest it. What time, and where? . . . Oh, could you make it a bit earlier? Sevenish for drinks? . . . No, not at the flat—it’s shut . . . Because I’m going away . . . Well, to Morocco actually—I’ll tell you all about it at supper . . . No, don’t bother to pick me up . . . Because I’m at the London Docks!” (Here Julia tried unsuccessfully to stifle a giggle.) “No, I’m being brought in to S.W.I.—someone’s doing penance! . . . Oh, Geoffrey, don’t be sour—I can’t explain it all now, and I won’t try! Where shall we dine? . . . The Oviedo? Right—but I shan’t dress . . . Well then come to my club at seven, for drinks. Goodbye.” She rang off.
    Both Julia’s telephone conversations had brought grins of pleasure to the faces of the other three occupants of the little office—a young lady, going on that little tub the
Vidago,
first ticking off the Head Office and then giving backchat to someone in the Treasury! When she got up and shook hands with them all, with thanks for their tea and their hospitality, each one wrung her hand warmly. “It’s been a pleasure. Come in any time,” said the old man.
    â€œOh, I daresay you’ll see more of me tomorrow,” said Julia airily. “Goodbye, and thank you again.”
    She went back to her cabin, unpacked and put on a dark frock, with an eye to the gang-ladder, and did her face; on her way up she had yelled for ‘the boy’, and told him to send Mr. Scales to her cabin when he should arrive. But before that shehad another encounter. Emerging to scout about for her escort she almost ran into a small elderly man with grey hair, a smooth grey face, and several gold bands on his sleeves.
    â€œIs it Miss Probyn?” he asked.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAh, good evening. I’m sorry we’re not starting on time,” said this person. “I hope it’s not putting you about too much.”
    â€œWell, I thought the office might have told me about it,” said Julia, who believed in rubbing it in to companies or corporations.
    â€œWon’t you come and have a drink?” said the grey-haired man, opening a teak door in the corridor a few yards from her own.
    â€œI’d love to, if someone will tell Mr. Scales where to find me,” said Julia, passing through the door. The large, comfortably furnished room in which she found herself told her that she was in the Captain’s cabin; it had several of the built-in sofas, a big desk, some arm-chairs, and a cupboard in the wall with a shelf below holding a wooden rack of glasses.
    â€œScales will find you here all right,” said the Captain slowly, moving over to the cupboard—he spoke even more deliberately than Julia herself. “What will you drink?—gin or whisky?”
    â€œWhisky, please.”
    â€œDo you like soda?” he asked, holding up a tumbler to the light and squinting at it; as he spoke he opened the lower part of the cupboard, pulled out a spotless cloth, and began to polish the glass.
    â€œYes, please.”
    The Captain pushed a bell, meanwhile unlocking the upper