"Ronald," said she, when the wandering of her eyes had found decision, "this is a friend of mine, Mr. Grey."
Ronald held out a horny hand.
"How do you do, sir."
Surely that settled matters? St. Joseph was approved of. She had said--this is a friend of mine.
They shook hands then with a heavy grip. It is the recognised way with those who go down to the sea in ships.
"When do you take your next voyage?" asked John.
"As soon as we can ship a cargo of gravel."
"And where are you bound for?"
"Port of Lagos--West Africa."
"Dangerous country, isn't it? Fever? White man's grave, and all that sort of thing?"