"Do you see this?"
She pointed to a symbolic golden anchor studded with gems and coiled with a rope of hair in her bosom. It was a gift of his.
"Do you know when I stole the lock? Foolish Dick! you gave me an anchor without a rope. Come and see."
She rose from the table, and threw herself on the sofa.
"Don't you recognize your own hair! I should know a thread of mine among a million."
Something of the strength of Samson went out of him as he inspected his hair on the bosom of Delilah.
"And you knew nothing of it! You hardly know it now you see it! What couldn't a woman steal from you? But you're not vain, and that's a protection. You're a miracle, Dick: a man that's not vain! Sit here." She curled up her feet to give him place on the sofa. "Now let us talk like friends that part to meet no more. You found a ship with fever on board, and you weren't afraid to come alongside and keep her company. The fever isn't catching, you see. Let us mingle our tears together. Ha! ha! a man said that once to me. The hypocrite wanted to catch the fever, but he was too old. How old are you, Dick?"
Richard pushed a few months forward.
"Twenty-one? You just look it, you blooming boy. Now tell me my age,
Adonis!—Twenty—what?"
Richard had given the lady twenty-five years.