“Soso,” said Bush.
They talked indifferently for a space, with Hornblower asking questions about the Chichester cottage that Bush lived in with his sisters.
“We must see about your bed for tonight,” said Hornblower at the first pause. “I’ll go down and give Mrs Mason a hail.”
“I’d better come too,” said Bush.
Mrs Mason lived in a hard world, quite obviously; she turned the proposition over in her mind for several seconds before she agreed to it.
“A shilling for the bed,” she said. “Can’t wash the sheets for less than that with soap as it is.”
“Very good,” said Bush.
He saw Mrs Mason’s hand held out, and he put the shilling into it; no one could be in any doubt about Mrs Mason’s determination to be paid in advance by any friend of Hornblower’s. Hornblower had dived for his pocket when he caught sight of the gesture, but Bush was too quick for him.
“And you’ll be talking till all hours,” said Mrs Mason. “Mind you don’t disturb my other gentlemen. And douse the light while you talk, too, or you’ll be burning a shilling’s worth of tallow.”
“Of course,” said Hornblower.