“Anyway, she’s tracked me down now,” said Mr. Dobb; and made fretful gestures and noises for a while.
“Oh, well, you’re married now, and there’s an end of it,” remarked Mr. Tridge, soothingly.
“That’s just where you’re wrong,” complained Mr. Dobb. “Now Looie Radling’s found me out there won’t be a end to it. It’ll be the start, not the end.”
“Breach o’ promise!” cried Mr. Tridge. “Of course, I ’adn’t thought of that.”
“’As she got any of your letters, though?” asked Mr. Clark, acutely.
“’Undreds!” groaned Mr. Dobb.
“She won’t half get some damages out of you,” prophesied Mr. Lock, cheerfully. “Having a business of your own now, and doing so well, they’ll award her a real big sum. Three or four ’undred, I dare say,” he hazarded, yawning carelessly.
“What?” screamed Mr. Dobb, in consternation. “Why, I can’t lay ’ands on a quarter of that!”
“No, I don’t suppose you can,” agreed Mr. Lock. “But then I ain’t the judge and jury. They won’t believe you in court, you being so well known in Shore’aven. You’ll have to sell up your business and go back to sea, and pay her the damages in instalments. Long, long years ahead from now you’ll still be scraping together to pay her—”
“Oh, shut up!” bellowed Mr. Dobb, rendered almost hysterical by contemplation of so doleful a prospect.