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Locke, William John, 1863-1930

"Simon the Jester"

Besides, Rogers, who had come down
with the hotel omnibus, was at my side touching his hat.
"I have ordered you a room and a private sitting-room with a balcony
facing the sea. Put yourself in charge of me and your luggage in charge
of Rogers and dismiss all thoughts of worry from your mind."
"You are so restful," she laughed as we moved off.
Then she scanned my face and said falteringly. "How thin and worn you
look! Are you worse?"
"If you ask me such questions," said I, "I'll leave you with the luggage
in charge of Rogers. I am in resplendent health."
She murmured that she wished she could believe me, and took my arm as we
walked down the jetty to the waiting cab.
"It's good to hear your voice again," I said. "It's a lazy voice and
fits in with the lazy South." I pointed to the burnous-enveloped Arabs
sleeping on the parapet. "It's out of place in Cadogan Gardens."
She laughed her low, rippling laugh. It was music very pleasant to hear
after the somewhat shrill cachinnation of the Misses Bostock of South
Shields.


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