But I refused. Philandering was not my forte, and church, in any case, was the last thing I should venture to propose.
"Why don't you go in yourself?"
Stires scratched his head. The trident trailed upon the ground. "It's serious or nothing with me, I guess. And she's got something against me. I don't know what. Thinks I don't blarney the Kanakas enough, perhaps. Then there's Follet."
"Oh, is he in it?" I forgot to go.
"He's more in it than I am, and I'm darned if I know what she's up to with the three of us. I'm playing 'possum, till I find out."
"If you can stand Follet butting in, why can't you stand Schneider? Safety in numbers, you know."
"Well, Mr. Follet belongs here. I can have it out with him any time. He'll have to play the game. But if I know Schneider, there's no wedding bells in his. And Mam'selle Eva hasn't, as you might say, got a chaperon."
The spectacle of "Mam'selle Eva," as I had last seen her, perspiring, loosely girdled, buying a catch of fish at a fair price from three mercenary natives adorned with shark's-tooth necklaces, rose before me.
"Man alive, you don't have to chaperon her," I cried. "She's on to everything."
The sun-and-wind-whipt eyes flashed at me. The spanner trembled a little.