'Mark's on leave to-night, in uniform; his face is flattened against the window. This is his lady, you know.'
'Hallo! D— you—are you there?' shouted the captain, very angry.
'I saw Mark following you like an ape, on all-fours; such nice white teeth! grinning at your heels. But he can't bite yet—ha, ha, ha! Poor Mark!'
'Will you be so good, Sir, as to touch the bell?' said Lake, changing his tone.
He was afraid to remove his arm from Dorcas, and he was splashing water from a glass upon her face and forehead.
'No—no. No bell yet—time enough—ding, dong. You say, dead and gone.'
Captain Lake cursed him and his absent keeper between his teeth; still in a rather flurried way, prosecuting his conjugal attentions.
'There was no bell for poor Mark; and he's always listening, and stares so. A cat may look, you know.'
'Can't you touch the bell, Sir? What are you standing there for?' snarled Lake, with a glare at the old man. He looked as if he could have murdered him.
'Standing between the living and the dead!'