“But—but ’ave you forgot?” asked Mr. Dobb, incredulously. “Talking like that! ’Ave you forgot or what?”
“Forgot what?” returned Mr. Tridge.
“Why,” Mr. Dobb replied, wretchedly, “I’m hengaged to that gal?”
“But ’ow can you be, ’Orace?” very reasonably contended Mr. Clark. “You’re married to your missis, and she’s a very ’ealthy-looking lady.”
“I married my missis a bit sudden, about eight months ago, as you may remember,” said Mr. Dobb.
“Oh, well, it wasn’t in reason you could afford to miss the chance of owning a nice little shop like ’ers,” pointed out Mr. Tridge, extenuatingly.
“Quite so,” acquiesced Mr. Dobb. “Only—only I ’appened by chance to be hengaged to Looie Radling at the time. I’d been hengaged to ’er two months and more when I first met my missis.”
“And stayed be’ind and got married to ’er by special licence and took up life ashore, while us other chaps went on in the ‘Jane Gladys’ the last month afore she was sold,” recalled Mr. Tridge. “I remember now.”
“Ah, I seem to remember something about you being engaged to a Miss Radling,” admitted Mr. Lock. “Greenwich gal, ain’t she?”
“Yes; and I remember ’er coming down to the boat to meet you the first time we went back there, and you wasn’t with us no longer. Very surprised but quite the lady she was,” said Mr. Clark. “We told ’er you’d deserted or something.”