but “square,” very simply, because thus only could he get what now he wanted, which was peace.
By a freak of his mind there came now to him the scratching pen of the clerk booking him. The big book leaped before him; he saw the pen travelling. “Five years and three years.”
Eight years! Eight years before he could even begin his new life.
And yet—eight years; after all, it was not so. long, eight years! He gave a swift look behind. The last eight years—they had not been so long! In eight years he would be thirty-seven. A man had some years left at thirty-seven!
He had risen to his feet in his excitement and was pacing to and fro along the narrow space between bunk and door. At one of his turns his eyes fell upon the placard stuck to the wall. He stopped, his eyes glued themselves upon the cardboard, a flush came to his heavy cheeks.
“My copper!”—it was almost a shout—“My copper”—he slapped his thigh—“By God, I was almost forgetting my copper!”
[ 30 ]
