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Wodehouse, P. G. (Pelham Grenville), 1881-1975

"The Coming of Bill"

The third officer's story had temporarily destroyed his
feeling that all was right with the world, and his sympathetic heart
welcomed this evidence that life held compensations even for men who
had been swindled out of valuable gold-mines.
"I guess he's not feeling so worse, after all," he mused, and went on
his way with an easy mind to be fawned upon by his grateful firm.
Ruth was holding Kirk at arm's length, her eyes full of tears at the
sight.
"You poor boy, how thin you are!"
"I had fever. It's an awful place for fever out there."
"Kirk!"
"Oh, I'm all right now. The voyage set me up. They made a great fuss
over me on board."
Ruth's hand was clinging to his arm. He squeezed it against his side.
It was wonderful to him, this sense of being together again after these
centuries of absence. It drove from his mind the thought of all the
explanations which sooner or later he had got to make. Whatever might
come after, he would keep this moment in his memory golden and
untarnished.
"Don't you worry about me," he said. "Now that I've found you again I'm
feeling better than I ever did in my life. You wait till you see me
sparring with Steve to-morrow. By the way, how is Steve?"
"Splendid."
"And Bill?"
Ruth drew herself up haughtily.
"You dare to ask about your son after Steve? How clumsy that sounds! I
mean you dare to put Steve before your son.


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