“I can’t afford to trifle with this affair,” he said. “I don’t think I’ll go.”
“Well, don’t go. Stop and order a nice piquant delicate little dinner in case Madame Denise comes, something of the Trois Frères Provençaux style, and I’ll stop and dine with you, play gooseberry, and keep you from quarrelling.”
“Come along,” said Glyddyr sharply; “we’ll go, but I believe she will not come. No, I won’t go. Suppose she does come down, and I’m not here, and she begins to make inquiries?”
“Bosh! If she comes and finds you are not here, the first inquiry she makes will be for when you went away, the second, for where you went.”
“Possibly.”
“Then let drop to some one that you are going to Redport, or Rainsbury, and she’ll make at once for there.”
“Confound you!” cried Glyddyr sharply. “Nature must have meant you for a fox.”
“You said a rat just now, dear boy. I never studied Darwin. Have it your own way. That our boat?”
“That’s my boat,” said Glyddyr sharply, as they reached the end of the pier.
“In with you, then,” cried Gellow; and then, in a voice loud enough to be heard on the nearest brig in the harbour, “Think the wind will hold good for Redport?”