“You are right in that respect, Mr. Snowdon. Between us—men that understand each other—there need be no protestation of feeling.”
“Give me your hand, sir; you have just said what I should like to say. I feel that you know what I feel—you know that if there was any way for me to prove my gratitude——=”
“Ah, you have said the word again, and I understood that it was to be kept out of our conversation. But I am glad that you said so much, for it enables me to say that you have the means of showing your gratitude to Heaven for your preservation, and I know that you will not neglect such means. You will be a good husband to Nelly Polwhele—that is the way by which you will show how you appreciate the blessing of life!”
Captain Snowdon's face became serious—almost gloomy—as gloomy as the face of such a man can become. He made no reply for a few moments. He crossed the room and looked out of the window. Once more he pulled out his handkerchief and mopped his brow with that bit of the gorgeous. Orient.
Then he turned to Wesley, saying:
“Mr. Wesley, sir, I have come to you at this; time to talk about Nelly Polwhele, if I may make so bold.”
“I can hear a great deal said about Nelly Polwhele so long as it is all that is good,” said Wesley.
“I am not the man to say aught else,” said Snowdon. “Only—well, sir, the truth is I don't quite know what to make of Nelly.”
“Make her your happy wife, Captain Snowdon,” said Wesley.
“That's what I look forward to, sir; but she is not of the same way of thinking, worse luck!”