Читать книгу Hornblower and the Hotspur онлайн

37 страница из 112

She was bringing something out from the pocket of her cloak and pressing it into his hand.

'It's only gloves, dear, but my love comes with them,' she went on. 'I could make nothing better for you in this little time. I would have liked to have embroidered something for you--I would have liked to give you something worthy of you. But I have been stitching at these every moment since--since--'

She could not go on, but once more she straightened her back and refused to break down.

'I'll be able to think of you every moment I wear them,' said Hornblower. He struggled into the gloves despite the handicap of the bag he was carrying; they were splendid thick woollen gloves, each with separate thumb and forefinger.

'They fit me to perfection. I thank you for the kind thought, dear.'

Now they were at the head of the steep slope down the Hard, and this horrible ordeal would soon be over.

'You have the seventeen pounds safely?' asked Hornblower--an unnecessary question.

'Yes, thank you, dearest. I fear it is too much--'