A few moments ago it had all seemed so delightful to him - and now
there lay a hideous blot upon the day.
It seemed to him when he left the little bar that he had been there
for hours, as a matter of fact barely five minutes had passed since
he had left Ernestine. He stood for a moment on the edge of the walk,
dazzled by the sunlight, then he stepped on to the grass and made
his way through the throng. The air was full of soft, gay music,
and the skirts and flounces of the women brushed against him at every
step. Laughter and excitement were the order of the day. Trent,
with his suddenly pallid face and unseeing eyes, seemed a little out
of place in such a scene of pleasure. Francis, who was smoking a
cigar, looked up as he approached and made room for him upon the seat.
"I did not expect to see you in England quite so soon, Captain
Francis," Trent said.
"I did not expect," Francis answered, "ever to be in England again.
I am told that my recovery was a miracle. I am also told that I owe
my Life to you!"
Trent shrugged his shoulders.
"I would have done as much for any of my people," he said, "and you
don't owe me any thanks. To be frank with you, I hoped you'd die."
"You could easily have made sure of it," Francis answered.
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