"They can't help it, Joe."
"Perhaps not, but we can."
They returned in a chastened mood to the excellent dinner provided at the inn.
IV
Next day they paid a visit to the great artist, who reproduced so wonderfully pieces of old furniture. Fortunately for the Quinneys, the Englishman, whom they had met at the Pardon, accompanied them. He happened to be staying at the same inn, and knew le pays Tregorrois as well as, indeed much better than, Quinney knew Melshire. Also he spoke French fluently, and could make himself understood in Breton. Lastly, he was something of a collector of Breton faience and old oak, a buyer in a small way of chests and panelling. The Quinneys interested him enormously. Joe was evidently an original, and Susan, as evidently, the reverse, and the more attractive on that account in masculine eyes. He swooped upon the immense differences in the characters of bride and groom, having the instinct of the explorer, and promised himself some amusement in studying them. Joe had been as frank with him as he was with Mrs. Biddlecombe.
"I've powers within me," he explained, over a matutinal pipe. "They push me on—see?"
George Le Marchant nodded, smiling pleasantly.
"Pushed you across the Channel?" he suggested.
"Just so. Beastly crossin'—humiliatin'. Felt like a scoured worm!"
Susan interrupted. She saw that Le Marchant, although he wore shabby clothes, was a gentleman.