“Mrs Martyn’s.” They laughed.
“Whatever it may be,” said Wareham, “he will not be troubled by the misgiving that a worthier man might have been found.”
Millie remarked that he had a very accurate mind.
“From which he shoots out poor Mrs Martyn’s facts as rubbish.”
“But in Miss Dalrymple’s hands he is a lamb,” said Mrs Ravenhill. “I think she might even venture on a statistic unquestioned.” Wareham made no answer, he turned to ask something of the long landlord. Millie spoke to a pale-faced girl, who was still shuddering from the crossing she had just gone through, and unwilling to believe that anything in Norway could be worth its preliminary horrors. Mrs Ravenhill got up.
“Which is the way to the fish-market?” she asked.
“I will go with you, if you will allow me,” Wareham answered.
“Don’t let us trouble you.”
Millie was conscious of a touch of stiffness in her mother’s manner, but he showed no signs of noticing it.
“You should have gone earlier,” he said. “Seven or eight o’clock is a better time. However, you will gain some idea of its picturesqueness even now, and from there you can have a look at the Hanseatic House. There is a general museum, too, and a good one.”