Cai did not respond: the crucial moment was drawing too near.
"Pretty li'l view, too. . . . A man with a box o' paints, now, might be tempted to have a slap at it."
Well-meant but artless simulation! Captain Hunken had once in his life purchased a picture; it represented Vesuvius by night, in eruption, and he had yielded to the importunity of the Neapolitan artist—or, rather, had excused himself for yielding—on the ground that after all you couldn't mistake the dam thing for anything else.
They came abreast of Harbour Terrace. They were passing by the green front door of Number Two. Still Captain Cai made no sign.
"There's a house, f'r instance—supposin' a man could afford the rental—" 'Bias halted and regarded it. "Hullo, 'tis unoccupied!" He turned about slowly. "You don't—mean—to tell me—as that's of it?"
"That's of it," Cai admitted tremulously. After a long pause,
'"Bias," he stammered, "break it gently."
"I'm tryin' to," said 'Bias, breathing and backing to the railings for a better view. He removed his hat and wiped the top of his head several times around. Then of a sudden—
"Hooray!" he exploded.
"'Bias!" Cai stared, as well he might, for his friend's face was totally impassive.
"Hoo—" began 'Bias again. "Who the devil's this?" he demanded, as the door opened and Tabb's child appeared in the entry.