No sense of duty or patriotism could revive
his drooping spirits. He felt himself suddenly an unclean and
dishonoured being.
CHAPTER XXI
Towards three o'clock on the following afternoon, the boisterous
wind of an uncertain morning settled down to worse things. It tore
the spray from the crest of the gathering waves, dashed it even
against the French windows of Mainsail Haul, and came booming down
the open spaces cliffwards, like the rumble of some subterranean
artillery. A little group of fishermen in oilskins leaned over the
railing and discussed the chances of Ben Oates bringing his boat
in safely. Philippa, also, distracted by a curious anxiety, stood
before the blurred window, gazing into what seemed almost a grey
chaos. "Captain Griffiths, your ladyship."
She turned around quickly at the announcement. Even an unwelcome
caller at that moment was almost a relief to her.
"How nice of you to come and see me on such an afternoon, Captain
Griffiths," she exclaimed, as they shook hands. "Helen is over at
the Canteen, Nora is hard at work for once in her life, and I seem
most dolefully alone."
Her visitor's reception of Philippa's greeting promised little in
the way of enlivenment. He seemed more awkward and ill at ease than
ever, and his tone was almost threatening.
"I am very glad to find you alone, Lady Cranston," he said.
Pages:
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178