“Ah, I see! You’ve been a-carrying on,” diagnosed the cook, cheerfully. “Well, we’ll soon choke ’er off. I reckon, on the ‘Alert,’ you ought to pay me—”
“A widower!” repeated Captain Gooster, frowning at Mr. Dobb’s precipitancy. “And I don’t mind confessing to you that I was disappointed in my marriage. You see, I married for love.”
“Oh, well—” commented Horace, shrugging his shoulders.
“And she married me for my money.”
“Ah, women’ll do anything for money,” said Mr. Dobb.
Captain Gooster, sitting suddenly erect, dissected the observation in silence.
“I can see what a disappointment it must ’ave been for both of you,” continued Horace. “’Owever, let’s ’ope you ’ave better luck next time, sir.”
“I mean to!” asserted Captain Gooster. “Marrying for love is a snare and a sham and a deloosion. I’ve learned wisdom. ‘Strictly business!’ that’s my motter in future.”
“And it ain’t a bad motter, neither, sir,” approved Mr. Dobb, thoughtfully. “Strictly business!” he repeated, nodding his head over it. “It’s a jolly good motter.”
“Yes, and next time,” went on Captain Gooster, “I marries for money. And I may add, what’s more, that I’ve got my eye on a certain lady already.”