“I am most honoured, my lord,” said Hornblower with a bow, but Bush noted the uncontrollable flutter of his fingers towards his almost empty breast pocket.
“Then would you be kind enough to accept a semiengagement? On account of Admiral Lambert I can make no promise, except that I will do my best to persuade him.”
“I’m dining with Mr. Bush, my lord. But I would be the last to stand in the way.”
“Then we may take it as being settled as near as may be?”
“Yes, my lord.”
Parry withdrew then, ushered out by his flag lieutenant who had been one of the whist four, with all the dignity and pomp that might be expected of a peer, an admiral, and a commissioner, and he left Hornblower grinning at Bush.
“D’you think it’s time for us to dine too?” he asked.
“I think so,” said Bush.
The eating house in Broad Street was run, as might almost have been expected, by a woodenlegged sailor. He had a pert son to assist him, who stood by when they sat at a scrubbed oaken table on oak benches, their feet in the sawdust, and ordered their dinner.
“Ale?” asked the boy.