“Bedad ye nadent be thrying to come yer comether over the likes if me, so ye nadent! Mesself don’t like the looks iv ye.”
Captain Spear turned with a smile to Miss Conyers, saying:
“I hope you do not share your companion’s antipathy?”
“If I did,” said Miss Conyers, “I should not show it to a stranger who comes among us, perhaps seeking relief for his own necessities; perhaps to rescue us from our exile.”
The captain bowed, and then said:
“Mr.—Rosenfeldt—is not that the name?”
“Rosenthal,” corrected Britomarte.
“Mr. Rosenthal tells me that you have been on this lone island nearly two years; and in all this time have had no news of your native land.”
“It is quite true.”
“You must have suffered intense anxiety.”