39 I have seen Clyde give chase to a burly policeman, who, in strolling by, had helped himself to a piece of Clyde's wood without realizing he was purloining anything. He apologized to Clyde. There was hardly a child in camp, but that had found a tennis ball. Once Celene claimed that a soldier's rubber bag was hers. She found it in possession of a lady. The lady said Celene might have it, but Celene was having no concessions. "This bag," she said, "was the bag George Boulton scrounged for me out of the dump heap." Marguerite Boulton had finally arrived, and George had fixed up his little room with a camp bed against each wall. After you sat on the camp bed, you lowered a board from the wall between, and had a table. There were shelves and nails bearing all kinds of tin mugs of one sort of jam pot and another. The little electric plate had barely room in one comer at the end of the bed. Marguerite is an excellent cook, and was able to recook the rice into all sorts of tempting dishes. The trouble was that it did not take much fixing to tempt George and there just wasn't enough of it. Marguerite chose to stay with George rather than come out with the Americans. She was a thoroughly good sport and though I could often see she was near to tears, she was always ready with a smile. A bomb had landed directly on her home so there was no chance of any of her things having been salvaged by servants, and she was a collector of snuff bottles! Yet although I have heard her mention various treasures, I have never once heard her give them a place higher than material things deserve, and never for an instant did she regret staying in Hong Kong and seeing George safely through. George rewarded her by complete devotion. This was another thing noticeable in the camp. The couples that were in the camp were mostly good friends. I never saw or heard the slightest word of friction between any
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