Читать книгу Roper's Row - Warwick Deeping - Страница 25

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Moorhouse’s rooms in Bernard Street offered Kit many contrasts, but he was neither offended nor disconcerted by them. These natural objects were for the use of Moorhouse, and to Moorhouse Hazzard was ready to allow all the good things that he himself lacked. For in Moorhouse’s room there was furniture of another sort, courtesy, a sensitive consideration.

And then arrived the hour when it was time to stroll to “Bennet’s” for the afternoon’s work.

“Excuse me a moment, Hazzard.”

Moorhouse disappeared into his bedroom, to return wearing a cap, a cap that was much more distinguished than Christopher’s, but still—it was a cap.

Bullard’s crowd, very much on the alert behind the hospital doors, and offering and accepting bets on the chances of the Squit funking a public occasion, saw Moorhouse and Hazzard crossing the forecourt. Hazzard was wearing a cap. But so was Moorhouse. A conspiracy of comradeship, wearing the same headgear, challenged and confounded that petty situation.