ted till death, Cossie."

Shafto thrust his devoted-till-death Cossie's letter into the
waste-paper basket, with a gesture of excommunication, and barred the
doors of his memory upon her round fat face.

Preparations for departure proceeded satisfactorily. He received a
number of good wishes and not a few gifts. The Tremenheeres sent him
an express rifle, the Tebbs a dispatch box, Mrs. Malone gave him a
silver cigarette case and a warm rug, Mrs. Galli gave him her blessing,
and his mother gave him advice.

On the appointed day a band of friends travelled down to Tilbury to
take leave of Douglas Shafto. These included Mrs. Malone, Mr. Hutton,
the two Japanese gentlemen, and several of his fellow clerks.--Mrs.
Shafto had excused herself, declaring that "her feelings would not
endure the strain of a public leave-taking."--Shortly before the
_Blankshire_ (Bibby Line) sailed, Sandy--alas! accompanied by
Cossie--hurried down the gangway (for Cossie was allied to the stamp of
the British soldier, who never knows when he is beaten and entirely
refuses to accept defeat!). She wore her best hat--a conspicuous
affair with enormous green wings--a somewhat murky white fur, and
carried a presentation bunch of wilted flowers. The new arrival,
chattering like a magpie, took immediate possession of her cousin,
snatched her away from poor Mrs. Malone, who was looking very old and
sad, and insisted on inspecting his cabin and as much as was possible
of the ship. When the bell rang and the moment of parting arrived, she
burst into wild unrestrained sobs, and clung, in the best melodramatic
style, to her unresisting kinsman, who was compelled to accept her
kisses and tears. In fact, as her brother rudely stated, "she made a
shameless show of herself, slobbering over Douglas before all the
passengers, and he was sorry for the poor chap, who was covered with
blushes; and not for her at all--as anyone could see with half an eye!"

However, Cossie returned home by the Underground, fortified with the
conviction that the party who had witnessed her farewell were bound to
realise that Douglas Shafto was her affianced lover.

The last signal Shafto received, ere the group of friends had dissolved
into a blur, was a frantic waving of Cossie's damp handkerchief, and he
turned his face towards the bows of the _Blankshire_, now heading down
the river, with the happy exaltation of freedom and a grateful sense of
escape.

CHAPTER IX