“No doubt you’re right. But I’ve gone without my deserts so long that I have lost all sense of them.”
“There’s others who haven’t,” said she; and timidly added a question upon the nature of his prosperity.
He paused to drink a quarter of the wine. Then, as he set down the vessel on the table at his elbow, he told her.
Her countenance grew overcast. He was touched to note it, inferring from this manifest regret at his departure that he had made a friend in Mrs. Quinn.
“And when do you go?” she asked him, oddly breathless.
“In a week’s time.”
She considered him, mournfully he thought; and he also thought that she lost some of her bright colour.
“And to the Indies!” she ejaculated slowly. “Lord! Among savages and heathen blacks! Why, you must be crazed to think of it.”
“Beggars may not choose, ma’am. I go where I can find employment. Besides, it is not as bad as you imagine.”