Davy’s restless foot was digging away at the carpet while he was stammering out these broken words:
“Haven’t you no ould uncle, ma’am, that would do for the like of that?”
Jenny had to struggle with herself not to leap up and hug Capt’n Davy then and there, “What a ninny the girl was!” she thought. But she said aloud, as well as she could for her throat that was choking her, “I see what you mean, Captain Quiggin. But, Cap tain——”
“Ma’am?” said Davy.
“If you have so much thought—(gulp, gulp)—for your wife’s welfare (gulp), you—must love her still (gulp, gulp)?
“I daren’t say no, ma’am,” said Davy, with downcast eyes.
“And if you love her, however deeply she may have offended you, surely you should never leave her. Come, now, Captain, forgive and forget; she is only a woman, you know.”
“That’s just where the shoe pinches, ma’am, so I’m taking it off. Out yonder it’ll be easier to forgive. And if it’ll be harder to forget, what matter?”
Jenny’s eyes were beginning to fill.
“No use crying over spilled milk, is it, ma’am? The heart-ache is a sort of colic that isn’t cured by drops.”