'Somewhere on the Channel. Progly or Snigly, or some one horse watering-place was its name; I've forgotten; but it was only two hours' run from London and the ships went by.'
'Did you see anything you knew?'
'Only the Barralong outwards to Australia, and an Odessa grain-boat loaded down by the head. It was a thick day, but the sea smelt good.'
'Wherefore put on one's best trousers to see the Barralong?' said Torpenhow, pointing.
'Because I've nothing except these things and my painting duds. Besides, I wanted to do honour to the sea.'
'Did she make you feel restless?' asked the Nilghai keenly.
'Crazy. Don't speak of it. I'm sorry I went.'
Torpenhow and the Nilghai exchanged a look as Dick, stooping, busied himself among the former's boots and trees.
'These will do,' he said at last; 'I can't say I think much of your taste in slippers, but the fit's the thing.' He slipped his feet into a pair of sock-like sambhur-skin foot coverings, found a long chair, and lay at length.
'They're my own pet pair,' Torpenhow said. 'I was just going to put them on myself.'
'`All your reprehensible selfishness. Just because
