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"
Yes
,
"
he
said
simply
,
"
it
was
.
"
"
How
does
it
feel
to
be
Methuselah
?
"
asked
Flora
.
This
time
the
laughter
was
more
apparent
,
but
Blunt
was
following
out
an
idea
of
his
own
.
"
Remember
the
johnny
who
sold
his
soul
to
the
devil
?
In
return
for
being
made
young
again
?
There
’
s
an
opera
about
it
.
"
"
Faust
,
you
mean
?
"
"
That
’
s
the
beggar
.
Rum
story
.
Some
of
us
would
do
it
if
we
could
.
"
"
Anyone
would
think
you
were
creaking
at
the
joints
to
hear
you
talk
,
"
cried
Flora
,
half
vexed
,
half
amused
.
Blunt
said
nothing
for
a
minute
or
two
.
Then
he
looked
away
from
Flora
into
the
middle
distance
and
observed
to
an
adjacent
tree
trunk
that
it
was
about
time
he
got
back
to
Africa
.
"
Are
you
going
on
another
expedition
–
shooting
things
?
"
"
Expect
so
.
Usually
do
,
you
know
–
shoot
things
,
I
mean
.
"
"
You
shot
that
head
in
the
hall
,
didn
’
t
you
?
"
Blunt
nodded
.
Then
he
jerked
out
,
going
rather
red
as
he
did
so
:
"
Care
for
some
decent
skins
any
time
?
If
so
,
I
could
get
’
em
for
you
.
"
"
Oh
!
please
do
,
"
cried
Flora
.
"
Will
you
really
?
You
won
’
t
forget
?
"
"
I
shan
’
t
forget
,
"
said
Hector
Blunt
.
He
added
,
in
a
sudden
burst
of
communicativeness
:
"
Time
I
went
.
I
’
m
no
good
in
this
sort
of
life
.
Haven
’
t
got
the
manners
for
it
.
I
’
m
a
rough
fellow
,
no
use
in
society
.
Never
remember
the
things
one
’
s
expected
to
say
.
Yes
,
time
I
went
.
"
"
But
you
’
re
not
going
at
once
,
"
cried
Flora
.
"
No
–
not
while
we
’
re
in
all
this
trouble
.
Oh
!
please
.
If
you
go
"
She
turned
away
a
little
.
"
You
want
me
to
stay
?
"
asked
Blunt
.
He
spoke
deliberately
but
quite
simply
.
"
We
all
-
"
"
I
meant
you
personally
,
"
said
Blunt
,
with
directness
.
Flora
turned
slowly
back
again
and
met
his
eyes
.
