“Have we made a good passage?”
“Nothing extra. It’s been done in five weeks by the baccalao schooners. Less.”
“The baccalao schooners. They’re the cod-boats? Are they very fast?”
“Oh, beauties. But ain’t they wet.”
“Then we might find letters waiting when we arrive?”
“Very likely, sir. I was going to speak to you about that.” He looked with meaning at Stukeley.
“What are you looking at me like that for?” said Stukeley.
“You might have letters waiting, too,” said Cammock. “Society invitations and that.” He glanced up at the skylight as he spoke, and then watched Stukeley’s face to note the effect of his words. Stukeley turned pale.
“Stukeley,” said Margaret, “don’t you think you ought to tell your wife?”
“Will you please mind your own business, Maggy. She’s my wife, not yours.”