"Lord love a duck, but it's a treat to hear honest English once more!" he said, returning to Raymond, whose pinched face was a ghastly yellow. "How are ye now, Sir? Gettin' over it?"
"Yes. I'm not what you would regard as robust, Captain, and Thursday afternoon's experiences placed a severe strain on my powers of resistance. Did you say you expected a frost? The weather is quite mild today, don't you think? Sit down, and join me in a drink when the brandy comes."
"Don't mind if I do, Sir. But are you sure you oughtn't to be in bed?"
"Quite sure. I walked a little too far, and I find these hills trying—that is all. Ah, here comes Marie with the medicine."
"Is that your name—Marie?" inquired Popple, eying the girl admiringly.
"Yes, Sir," and a pair of fine Breton brown eyes sparkled.
"An' very nice too!" said he. "Mighty fetchin' rig the gals have in this part," he went on, pouring out some brandy for Raymond, which the latter drank neat. "They look like so many dandy housemaids got up for a fancy ball. Now, if my old woman could see me makin' googoo eyes at a tasty bit like Marie—well, there'd be a double entry in the family log."
"What's this nonsense that Mrs. Carmac has got into her head about salving certain articles from the Stella?" said Raymond, whose voice had regained its normal harshness of tone. Small men usually have strong voices. Your giant of a fellow will pipe in a childish treble.
"Why do you say it's nonsense, Sir?" demanded Popple sharply.