"I'll tell you how it was, and when he went away."
"Thank ye, ma'am," he interposed. "I've heard—melancholy case, ma'am; got seven penn'orth, didn't he, and never turned up again?"
"Seven what, sir?"
"Seven years, ma'am; seven penn'orth we call it, ma'am, familiar like."
"I don't understand you, sir—I don't know what it means; I saw him sail away. It went off, off, off."
"I'll bet a pound it did, ma'am," said Mr. Levi.
"Only to be for a very short time; the sail—I could see it very far—how pretty they look on the sea; but very lonely, I think—too lonely."
"A touch of solitary, ma'am," acquiesced Levi.
"Away, in the yacht," she dreamed on.
"The royal yacht, ma'am, no doubt."