Jim drove them in for fear of more
fever.
Apropos of these things and some others William said: "Being engaged
is abominable, because, you see, one has no official position. We
must be thankful we've lots of things to do."
"Things to do!" said Jim, when that was reported to him. "They're
neither of them any good any more. I can't get five hours' work a
day out of Scott. He's in the clouds half the time."
"Oh, but they're so beautiful to watch, Jimmy. It will break my
heart when they go. Can't you do anything for him?"
"I've given the Government the impression - at least, I hope I have
- that he personally conducted the entire famine. But all he wants
is to get on to the Luni Canal Works, and William's just as bad.
Have you ever heard 'em talking of barrage and aprons and
waste-water? It's their style of spooning, I suppose."
Mrs. Jim smiled tenderly. "Ah, that's in the intervals - bless
'em."
And so Love ran about the camp unrebuked in broad daylight, while
men picked up the pieces and put them neatly away of the Famine in
the Eight Districts.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Morning brought the penetrating chill of the Northern December, the
layers of wood-smoke, the dusty grey-blue of the tamarisks, the
domes of ruined tombs, and all the smell of the white Northern
plains, as the mail-train ran on to the mile-long Sutlej Bridge.
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