"You're very fond—of—her—are—you—not!" mused the merchant, who was half asleep, and almost dreaming of his English cousin—(she did not paint when he knew her).
"Werry." Saying which Jerry, seeing his host was now asleep, placed his arm round the supple waist of the girl, and drawing her towards him, gave her a sounding kiss.
Oldcrackle woke with a start, and sat bolt upright in his chair, calling out, "What's that?" Upon turning round towards his guest, he saw the latter with his hand held to his cheek, as if he had just slapped it in order to crush some insect.
"What's that, Puffeigh?"
"A thundering big mooseskeeter just settled on my—" here the sailor slapped his face again, as if he had just killed another tormentor.
Alayā was sitting behind the coxswain's chair, apparently fast asleep.
The old merchant murmured something about "soon being used—to—those—th—things," then snoozed off again, and snored.
Alayā woke up, or pretended to do so, and the enchanted sailor soon was supporting her in the former manner. Poor girl, she was far too deeply in love to sit upon a chair, so Jerry kindly placed his arm round her waist to prevent her falling, while she fanned and drove him out of his senses at the same time. At last he whispered to her,
"Do you love me, Alayer?"
The girl nodded several times.