“No; it was very unkind and ungenerous of me,” she said. “He has always been so good.”
In the midst of what was almost a wild excitement of preparation, mingled with fits of despondency, Millicent Hallam noticed this too, and found time to feel hurt.
“He is such an old friend,” she said to herself. “He has been like a brother; and it seems hard that he should appear to be less moved at our approaching farewell than Mr Thickens and his wife.”
For, instigated by the latter, Thickens had come up and followed them to Portsmouth.
“It would have about killed her, Mrs Hallam,” he said in confidence, as he sat chatting with her aside in the hotel room on the eve of their sailing. “But now a bit of business. I’ve been trying ever since I came to get a few words with you alone, only Sir Gordon and Mr Bayle were always in the way.”
“Business, Mr Thickens?”
“Yes, look here! I’m an actuary, you see, and money adviser, and that sort of thing. Now you are going out there on a long voyage, and you ought to be prepared for any little emergencies that may occur in a land that I find is not so barbarous as I thought, for I see they have a regular banking establishment there, and business regularly carried on in paper and bullion.”
Mrs Hallam looked at him wonderingly.
“Ah, I see you don’t understand me, so to be short,” he continued, “fact is I talked it over with, madam, and we settled it between us.”
“Settled what?” said Mrs Hallam, wonderingly.