“C. Q.”; or, In the Wireless House
The blood rushed to his freckled face. He had striven to keep this phase of his relation to Graeme in complete abeyance, but now—! It would be his last chance. What if it were n’t his business? Was Graeme the accepted suitor of his Lady of the Order of St. John of Jerusalem or not? He opened his mouth as if in interrogation.
“It ’s only a penny to England,” he said in a queer voice, fumbling awkwardly in his pocket and producing twopence. “You ’ll need the change when you get ashore.”
Graeme laughed in spite of himself, and pocketed the two coppers.
“You ’re a queer chap,” he said. “Somehow when you are with me I feel as if nothing could happen.”
He hesitated—
“Do you mind if I give you my watch? I ’d like you to have something of mine. Your taking it would make me feel as if—somehow—you didn’t blame me too much for what I ’d done.”
He unhooked his watch from its guard and laid it in Micky’s hand.
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