The Foot of Time: A Novel of Australia and the South Seas: (1933)

94 THE FOOT OF TIME
Sitting on the small study table, Pinkerton swung
his long, athletic legs backwards and forwards.
Glancing at his handsome dark face reflected in
Bruce's mirror, the boy smoothed down thick black
hair. It was parted in the middle, but the strong
features managed to carry off that style without
any suggestion of effeminacy.
"I've nothing special on—er—as a matter of
fact, I'm engaged to be married, so as you can
imagine, time is scarcely likely to hang on my
hands."
"Good Lord, Swinton! You don't mean to say
you've tied yourself up before you've had any sort
of fling—before you've seen or done any damn
thing? Engaged! Why, hang it all, man, how the
devil can you be engaged before you've so much as
graduated? What did her old man say? Hardly
fair on a girl to keep her waiting indefinitely, and
all that sort of thing. No offence, old boy; no business
of mine, but—"
"Here, pull up, Pinko. You're going ahead a bit
fast for me. You enquired what I intended doing
during vacation, and I tell you I have a girl—that's
about all there is to it. Of course we are not
officially engaged. I mean, there is no engagement
ring or anything of that sort. An understanding,
you know, and all that kind of thing. Enough to
keep me cheery between terms, don't you think?"
"Lord, Swinton," mused the other, "you gave me
quite a scare. I've a girl myself for that matter—
two, to be exact," the boy laughed. "Your lady
THE FOOT OF TIME 95
friend won't expect you to tie your ruddy self to
her apron strings—or her pa, either."
"What were you thinking of?"
"To tell you the truth, old boy, I'm off to the
cutest little Pacific island ever. Know the place
well. Priceless climate, sans fever, surfing safe as
eggs, the reef keeping out sharks. An octopus here
and there in the deep holes; have to keep a lookout
for those gentry or your number's up. The thrill
of adventure. Dusky maidens, top-notch dancers,
you know, and all that. Frightfully cheap living.
Gorgeous mountain climbs, fishing, canoeing on
good days. Absolutely it, old man! Was going to
suggest you rolled along with me. The governor'll
finance me."
Bruce Swinton sat up in his chair—sat up very
much.
"You certainly paint a rosy picture, Pinko," he
agreed. "I—upon my word, it really would be a
bit of a beano. As you say, there's plenty of time
for married life later on, and—'
"Think over the idea, old boy. Don't let me
hurry you. Sleep on it. But I want a pal, and
between ourselves—I don't want to blither—but
you're the only fellow I'd go with, and—well, there
you see how it is."
Bruce was but human—human and very young.
Blood ran in his veins. His life had been a quiet
one on account of his having been brought
up solely by his mother. The prospect was
alluring. As Pinkerton suggested, he might not
always be free to have an unfettered bachelor holi-
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