Podb. A—thanks. I—I mean, I know I should only be in your way and all that. And—I'd better say good-bye, Miss Prendergast. You won't want me in the gondola just now, I'm sure. I can easily get another.
Miss P. Well—good-bye then, Mr. Podbury. I will explain to Bob.
[She steps into the gondola; Bob raises his eyebrows in mute interrogation at Podbury, who shakes his head, and allows the gondola to go without him.
Podb. (to himself as the gondola disappears). So that's over! Hanged if I don't think I'm sorry, after all. It will be beastly lonely without anybody to bully me, and she could be awfully nice when she chose.... Still it is a relief to have got rid of old Tintoret, and not to have to bother about Bellini and Cima and that lot.... How that beggar Culchard will crow when he hears of it! Shan't tell him anything—if I can help it.... But the worst of getting the sack is—people are almost bound to spot you.... I think I'll be off to-morrow. I've had enough of Venice!
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE PILGRIMS OF LOVE.
Scene—The Piazza of St. Mark at night. The roof and part of the façade gleam a greenish silver in the moonlight. The shadow of the Campanile falls, black and broad, across the huge square, which is crowded with people listening to the Military Band, and taking coffee, &c., outside the cafés. Miss Trotter and Culchard are seated at one of the little tables in front of the Quadri.
Miss T. I'd like ever so much to know why it is you're so anxious to see that Miss Prendergast and me friendly again? After she's been treating you this long while like you were a toad—and not a popular kind of toad at that!
Culch. (wincing). Of course I am only too painfully aware of—of a certain distance in her manner towards me, but I should not think of allowing myself to be influenced by any—er—merely personal considerations of that sort.