Netherby went and sat beside her.
He watched her in silence for awhile:
“Julia,” he said—“promise. You must promise. Promise—promise—promise——”
They both started.
Through the open doorway came the boy, looking like misery, deathly pale, and dragging the butterfly-net limply after him.
“O lor!” he said.
“My dear Noll!” said Julia—“what on earth have you been doing now?”
Noll halted wearily before them:
“It’s that sailor-man’s tobacco,” he said gloomily. “It was—too much—for—my strength. I don’t think I’m a man—yet.... Netherby, you and Julia can get married as soon as you like—I shall never smoke again.”
He laid the butterfly-net on Gomme’s knees, and added, with a wan smile: