Doubtless, I reflected, these people believe
that I, like Agag, had "made women childless" by my sword, so there
remained nothing save to follow the example of that unhappy king and
walk "delicately" to doom.
Then, as Stephen was still sleeping--how /could/ he do it, I wondered
--I set to work to make up the accounts of the expedition to date. It
had already cost ?1,423. Just fancy expending ?1,423 in order to be
tied to a post and shot to death with arrows. And all to get a rare
orchid! Oh! I reflected to myself, if by some marvel I should escape,
or if I should live again in any land where these particular flowers
flourish, I would never even look at them. And as a matter of fact I
never have.
At length Stephen did wake up and, as criminals are reported to do in
the papers before execution, made an excellent breakfast.
"What's the good of worrying?" he said presently. "I shouldn't if it
weren't for my poor old father. It must have come to this one day, and
the sooner it is over the sooner to sleep, as the song says.
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