With that second shot Jenny’s powder was spent. Davy looked down into her face and said—
“I’m terr’ble onaisy about herself, ma’am, and can’t take rest at nights for thinking what’s to come to her when I am gone.”
“Gone?” said Jenny, rising quietly.
“That’s so ma’am,” said Davy. “I’m going away—back to that ould Nick’s oven I came from, and I’ll want no money there.”
“Is that why you’re wasting it here, Captain Quiggin?” said Jenny. Her gayety was gone by this time.
“No—yes! Wasting? Well maybe so, ma’am, may be so. It’s the way with money. Comes like the droppings out of the spout at the gable, ma’am; but goes like the tub when the bull has tipped it. Now I was thinking ma’am——”
“Well, Captain?”
“She won’t take any of it, coming from me, but I was thinking, ma’am—”
“Yes?” Davy was pawing the carpet with one foot, and Jenny’s eyes were creeping up the horn buttons of his waistcoat.
“I was thinking, ma’am, if you could take a mossle of it yourself before it’s all gone, and go and live with her—you and she together somewheres—some quiet place—and make out somehow—women’s mortal clever at rigging up yarns that do no harm—make out that somebody belonging to you is dead—it can’t kill nobody to say that ma’am—and left you a bit of a fortune out of hand——”