He laughed softly. "Do you mind? I can't help it. It's hard, but I want you to help me try to forget it. I'd gladly he a sailor again if you'd like me better."
"I did like you—before you deceived me. You pretended you were that."
"But I have grievances too—you said I was a queer little rat of a man."
Sally's laugh was gay but trembling. "I did say that, didn't I?"
"Yes, and you tried to underpay me, too."
"Oh, I didn't! You charged a lot more than the others."
Sir Richard shook his head firmly. "Not nearly as much as the Revenge was worth. I kept gangs of men scrubbing that boat till I nearly went into bankruptcy. And, what's more, you ought to keep your word, you know. You said you were going to marry Richard Leigh—Richard Grenville Cary Leigh is his whole name, you know. Will you keep your word?"
"But I—but you—but I didn't know," stammered Sally, feebly.
He went on eagerly. "You told me how he should wear his name—high and—and all that." He had no time for abstractions. "He can never do it alone—will you come and help him?"
Sally was palpably starching about for weapons to aid her losing fight. "Why do you like me? I'm not beautiful like Anne Ford." He laughed. "I'm not rich, you know, like lots of American girls. We're very poor"—she looked at him earnestly.