Page:Walpole--portrait of man with red hair.djvu/298

 of the early morning sky was coloured faintly like a bird's wing.

The sun flooded the room, wrapping them all in its mantle.

"Let's sit down," said Dunbar, pulling three of the gilt chairs into the centre of the room where the sun shone brightest. "I've a kind of idea that we'll need all the strength we've got in a few minutes. That's fine what you said, Harkness, about being alive, although I didn't follow you altogether.

"I'm not very artistic. A man who's been on the sea since he was a small kid doesn't go to many picture galleries and he doesn't read books much either. To tell you the truth there's always such a lot to do, and when I've finished the Daily Mail there doesn't seem time for much more, except a shocker sometimes. The sort of mess we're in now wouldn't make a bad shocker, would it? Only you'd never be able to make Crispin convincing. All I know is, if I wrote a book about him I'd have him tortured at the end with little red devils and plenty of pincers. However, I get what you mean, Harkness, about being alive.

"I felt something of the same thing in the war sometimes. At Jutland, although I was in the devil of a funk all the time, I was sort of pleased with myself too. Life's always seemed a bit unreal since the armistice, until last night. And it's a funny thing, but when I was helping Hesther climb out