“Good! I’ll cut you out. Is she fond of bones?”
Mr. William Townsend did not answer, but he looked at his watch. “She ought to be here now. The boat sails at ten-thirty, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“It’s ten, now. I shall trot you up as soon as she arrives.”
“Thanks. You will excuse my asking a cruel question, old man, but you certainly did not send all the flowers in that cabin?”
“Oh, no!”
“Then there are other–appreciators?”
“Yes.”
Mr. Patrick Boyd, with a slight gesture toward two carefully attired gentlemen who were pacing the wharf, raised his eyebrows interrogatively.
His companion smiled. “Yes. She can also have either of them, and without the asking.”