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Cross, Victoria, 1868-1952

"To-morrow?"

We found our way
to the foot of the stairs, where an undefined heap barred our way.
Not knowing what it was I kicked it, and Dick exclaimed,--
"Take care! I think that's your man," and a groan confirmed the
statement.
"Hullo, Walters! I am very sorry. I had no idea it was you. I hope I
haven't hurt you!" I said as the servant got on his feet. "Why do
you turn the lights out? However, it's just as well you are here.
Bring me upstairs the soda, champagne, and the new lot of cigars. I
suppose there is the lamp in my room?"
"Yes, sir."
"You won't care to turn out again, Dick, to-night, will you?" I said
as we went upstairs. "There's an awfully comfortable sofa in my
room, quite as good as a bed. Will you accept that?"
"Oh yes; I always find I can go to sleep anywhere. Do you remember,
when we were camping out at Shikarpur, those nights on the shaky-
legged native benches?"
"Rather! That was when I never bothered about anything. I have never
slept so well since."
We went into my room. Two lamps were burning here, and the thick
blinds shut out all signs of the dreary dawning light. Walters
followed us in a few seconds and set a tray of glasses and bottles
on the table. I flung off my overcoat and sat down in an arm-chair,
pressing the palms of my hands hard on my forehead in the vain
effort to deaden the tearing pain.


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