“Nay, it was he who left her.”
“The villain!” said Davy. But after Davy had delivered himself so there was nothing to be heard for the next ten seconds but the sucking of lips over the pipe.
“And now,” said Lovibond, “she can not stir out of doors but she finds herself the gossip of the island, and the gaze of every passer-by.”
“Poor thing, poor thing!” said Davy.
“He must be a low, vulgar fellow,” said Lovibond; “and yet—would you believe it?—she wouldn’t hear a word against him.”
“The sweet woman!” said Davy.
“It’s my firm belief that she loves the fellow still,” said Lovibond.
“I wouldn’t trust,” said Davy. “That’s the ways of women, sir; I’ve seen it myself. Aw, women is quare, sir, wonderful quare.”
“And yet,” said Lovibond, “while she is sitting pining to death indoors he is enjoying himself night and day with his coarse companions.”
Davy put up his pipe on the mantelpiece. “Now the man that does the like of that is a scoundrel,” he said, warmly.