Simpkins is beginning to buck up already.
Look at him."
Simpkins was staggering towards his hat, which Meldon had left lying at
the place where the punt landed.
"I expect," said the Major, "that he feels as if the sun on the back of
his head would upset him again. It must be pretty hot in there where
they're sheltered from the wind."
"We'll give him a drop of whisky," said Meldon, "and set him on his
feet properly. Get in, Major."
"I'm not at all sure that I'm going ashore. I think I'd be more
comfortable where I am. Simpkins is bad enough when he's healthy, but
in the condition he's in now I simply couldn't stand him at all.
Besides, I don't think Miss King would like us to land. It doesn't
seem to me quite fair to go spying on a woman when she's sick. She'd
rather be left alone for a while, till she recovers her ordinary
colour. I felt very sorry for her on the boat, and if I could have
done anything--"
"That sort of sympathy and delicacy of feeling is all very fine, Major;
but I tell you plainly that if it leads to your refusing to give the
poor girl any lunch she won't appreciate it."
"Couldn't you land the luncheon basket and then come back here?"
"Certainly not.
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