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Within, Maurice and the major were talking gaily, and the sound of their voices and laughter came clearly to the ears of David. But silent in his deep chair sat Etwald, and the burning glance of his eyes seemed to beam menacingly through the air and compel the young man to evil thoughts. David looked at Etwald, dark and voiceless; and over his head, in the yellow lamplight, he saw the glittering golden handle of the devil-stick. Patricia made a laughing face. "Are you speaking about the lunch room?" she asked in a pleasant contralto voice. "I can show you where it is, but you'll have to bring your lunch with you. There are gas stoves to cook on in the back room, and tables and chairs in the front one, if you're not too late to get a place.".
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All eyes were upon him as he crumpled his napkin into a hard ball and crushed it between his flexible fingers, while his face assumed an earnest and rather anxious expression. Maurice, whose nerves were proof against such fantasies, laughed disbelievingly. "No doubt. But in the meantime they would make themselves scarce. Jaggard has been insensible or raving for over a week, major. The scoundrels counted on that!" "Yah!" cried Battersea, derisively. "You're out of it. My mother white; but my father--" here he hesitated, and then resumed: "Yes, you're right. Dido; my father was a negro! A Seedee boy, who was a fireman on a P. and O. liner.".
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