‘Oh, the dumb man.’
Miss Twexby nodded.
‘That’s him,’ she said, triumphantly, ‘he’s been here for the last two weeks.’
‘Drunk, I think you said,’ remarked Slivers, politely.
Martha laughed scornfully, and took out some sewing.
‘I should just think so,’ she retorted, tossing her head, ‘he does nothing but drink all day, and run after people with that knife.’
‘Very dangerous,’ observed Slivers, gravely shaking his head; ‘why don’t you get rid of him?’
‘So we are,’ said Miss Twexby, biting off a bit of cotton, as if she wished it were Pierre’s head; ‘he is going down to Melbourne the day after to-morrow.’
Slivers got weary of hearing about Pierre, and plunged right off into the object of his visit.
‘That Vandeloup,’ he began.