Louise looked at him appealingly; but he was perfectly firm, and she went on with her friend.
“I fear, in the midst of my trouble, Perrow, that I had forgotten my engagement with you.”
“Like enough, master, and no wonder. There was no hurry.”
“Yes, but there is,” said Vine slowly. “Will you come to my house to-night or to-morrow morning? and I’ll give you my cheque to take to the bank.”
“For how much?” said the man eagerly.
“One hundred pounds; the amount I promised you.”
“Ay, but that was for taking the poor boy across. No, Master Vine, we’ve been talking it over, the five on us, and there’s the boat, and one night’s fishing gone as might have been a good one or it mightn’t been nothing; so we’re going to ask you to pay us a pound apiece.”
“But—”
“Good-day, Master Vine, busy now. I’ll come on in a day or two.”
The man turned away abruptly, and, with his brow heavily wrinkled, as he felt moved by the man’s generosity, Vine walked slowly on, and overtook Louise and Madelaine.