She couldn't speak. Aunt Caroline in a hoop and elastic-sided boots was simply imploring her to behave with dignity.
"Say you don't blame me, Miss Pridmore, an' then I'll quit. It's not reelly my fault about my father." He laughed a little, but she didn't hear him. "I'm sorry, though, about the Mariner. If we could have brought him into port, you and me, Miss Pridmore, there'd been nothing like him outside the Russians. However ... say I'm not to blame ... and then I'll quit."
She was unable to hear what he was saying.
"Won't you, Miss Pridmore? I can't bear you should think I've played it low down. If I could ha' told you afore I'd ha' done it ... you can lay to that."
It was not a voice that she knew, and she could not answer it.
"Well, I'm sorry."
Suddenly he took her hand, and its coldness startled him.
"I'll say good-by," he said with a sort of laugh.
Aunt Charlotte primly informed her niece that Mr. Harper was taking leave.
"Oh," she said. "Good-by."