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Quiller-Couch, Arthur Thomas, Sir, 1863-1944

"The Mayor of Troy"


"For my part," declared Miss Sally, hardily, "I shall go to Lerryn."
"Sally!"
"It used to be great fun. In later years mamma disapproved, but
there is (may I confess it?) this to be said for war, that beneath
its awful frown--under cover of what I may venture to call the
shaking of its gory locks--you can do a heap of things you wouldn't
dream of under ordinary circumstances. Life, though more precarious,
becomes distinctly less artificial. Two years ago, for instance,
lulled in a false security by the so-called Peace of Amiens, I should
as soon have thought of flying through the air."
"Has it occurred to you," Miss Pescod suggested, "what might happen
if the Corsican, taking advantage to-night of our dear Major's
temporary absence--"
"Don't!" Miss Sally interrupted with a shiver. "Oh, decidedly I
shall go to Lerryn to-night! On second thoughts it would be only
proper."
On the dark waters below them, beyond the Quay, a hoarse military
voice gave the command to "Give way!" One by one on the
fast-dropping tide the boats, keeping good order, headed for the
harbour's mouth. The Major led. _O navis, referent_ . . .
Think, I pray you, of Wolfe dropping down the dark St. Lawrence; of
Wolfe and, ahead of him, the Heights of Abraham!

CHAPTER VII.

THE BATTLE OF TALLAND COVE.
"Now entertain conjecture of a time
When creeping murmur and the poring dark
Fills the wide vessel of the universe.


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