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Locke, William John, 1863-1930

"Simon the Jester"

Lola and I, catching sight
of each other at the same time, waved handkerchiefs in an imbecile
manner, and when the vessel came alongside, and during the tedious
process of mooring, we regarded each other with photographic smiles. She
was wearing a squirrel coat and a toque of the same fur, and she looked
more like a splendid wild animal than ever. Something inside me--not the
little pain--but what must have been my heart, throbbed suddenly at her
beauty, and the throb was followed by a sudden sense of shock at the
realisation of my keen pleasure at the sight of her. A wistful radiance
shone in her face as she came down the gangway.
"Oh, how kind, how good, how splendid of you to meet me!" she cried as
our hands clasped. "I was dreading, dreading, dreading that it might be
some one else."
"And yet you came straight through," said I, still holding her hand--or,
rather, allowing hers to encircle mine in the familiar grip.
"Didn't you command me to do so?"
I could not explain matters to her then and there among the hustle of
passengers and the bustle of porters.


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