"Then wherefore trouble to shave your beard?"
"'Tis a whim."
"Are you alone?"
"I was."
"And I would you were again."
"So do I."
"You are Englishman—yes?"
"I am."
"My mother was English—a poor thing that spent her days weeping and died of her tears when I was small—ah, very small, on this island."
"Here?" quoth I, staring.