Page:The Blind Bow-Boy (IA blindbowboy00vanv).pdf/117

 Picked in the back to a level with her face, she contemplated her reflection.

I've just finished my breakfast, Paulet. . . I can't drink any tea. Pour some for yourself. She handled the mirror in a reverent, even an affectionate, manner.

I had breakfast at ten, Paul groaned. The snake-charmer was hungry and she began to prowl about for food!

Are they there still? Campaspe smiled at the memory of the pretty picture.

No. After breakfast—Zimbule ate seven eggs—Bunny telephoned for a taxi, and they departed together, after kissing me. They have sworn eternal affection and they have begun housekeeping in Bunny's apartment.

I'd like to have them here, Campaspe threw in, almost.. ..

Almost. . . is what I felt. It's the way we both feel about so many things.

It's my philosophy. . . almost. Campaspe replaced the mirror on the mantelshelf.

Paul had walked to the window and was looking down on the rain-swept street. Suddenly he exclaimed, How strange! A sailor with an umbrella.

Why? What? How strange? Campaspe joined him.

Sailors don't carry umbrellas. Never. It's an unwritten law in the navy.