“Why, there it is, Hector; my Rose is such vast and welcome change to your fine ladies, for instead o’ languishing, sinking or swooning with mock-modesty as your great lady should, she talks to me of—her grandmother! She is immaculate, Hector, Innocence incarnate—and I find her vastly edifying. And, egad, I’ve kissed her but once, and that upon the brow—in all these miles! Come—how d’ye say to that?”
“Umph-humph!” exclaimed Sir Hector.
“Pray,” questioned Sir John, “pray what might you mean exactly, Hector?”
“That I’m no minded tae sit here choked wi’ dust hearkenin’ tae sermons on ye’ ain virtues.... An’ high tide at twa o’clock! Push on, man, push on, and ye s’all be in Sussex to-morrow’s morn.”
“In heaven’s name, how?”
“Whisht, lad! I happen to know of a boat—juist a wee bit fishin’-boat, y’ ken—as sails the nicht.”
“’Tis marvellous what you ‘happen’ to know. Hector!”
“Tush, man! Are ye for Sussex an’ Cuckmere Haven to-morrow morn?”
“With all my heart.”
“Then ‘hurry’s’ the word, John.”