“You seem to have recognised each other pretty quickly when you did meet.”
“He knew me. I didn’t know him. And never should have done—never. I can’t hardly believe now it’s the Ben Batters I used to know. Only he’s proved it.”
“How came he to be what he is?”
“That’s more than I can say. He hasn’t told me no more than he’s told you. He always was a hot ’un, Ben was. Bound to get into a mess before he’d done. Always a-fightin’. But I never thought he’d have come to this. Fine figure of a man he used to be. They must have took the skin right off him—used him something cruel.”
I shuddered at the thought. Better to have died a dozen deaths.
“Do you think he’s to be trusted?”
“Well—as for trustin’—that depends. Seems to me no one’s to be trusted more than you can help.”
I felt, as he went, that he had summed up his own philosophy. He trusted no one. It was the part of wisdom for no one to trust him. I wished that, in my haste, I hadn’t berthed the two together. The first excuse which offered Luke should be shifted. I did not like the notion of such a pair hobnobbing. The stake was too big.
Someone touched me on the arm. It was the girl.
“Miss Batters! You ought to be in your berth. It’s late.”