“Here?”
“No; in town.”
“But what are you going to do?”
“Fight for your interests, and mine. That woman’s my wife, come down after me, and I’m going to take her home. See?”
“Not quite.”
“Then stop blind. Be off, quick.”
This hurried colloquy took place in the boat by the rough granite stairs, the attention of those about being taken up by the two half-drowned people on the pier, the excited talk making the words inaudible save to those concerned.
“Now, then,” whispered Gellow, “you’ll leave it to me?”
“Yes,” said Glyddyr, hesitating.
“Carte blanche?”