"Thirty?"
I shook my head, but I would not answer him further.
"That's bad!" he said; "but it might be worse. I've lots of tin, and we always went shares."
"I must look out for something to do to-morrow," I remarked.
"Ay, yes!" he answered, dryly; "you might go as assistant to a parish doctor, or get a berth on board an emigrant-ship. There are lots of chances for a young fellow."
He sat smoking his cigar—a dusky outline of a human figure, with a bright speck of red about the centre of the face. For a few minutes he was lost in thought.
"I tell you what," he said, "I've a good mind to marry Julia myself. I've always liked her, and we want a woman in the house. That would put things straighter, wouldn't it?"
"She would never consent to leave Guernsey," I answered, laughing. "That was one reason why she was so glad to marry me."
"Well, then," he said, "would you mind me having Olivia?"
"Don't jest about such a thing," I replied; "it is too serious a question with me."