There was a frigid silence during which the three ladies, sinking for a time their differences, eyed him with every sign of strong disapprobation, Mrs. Banks giving vent to a sniff which disparaged the whole race of man.
“As for men who fall overboard and get picked up and turn up months afterwards,” continued the faithful Nibletts, “why, every sailorman knows scores of ’em.”
“I knowed seven,” said Captain Barber, with the exactness of untruth. “They didn’t seem to think much of it, didn’t seem to think it anything unusual, I mean.”
“It ain’t,” said Nibletts, stoutly.
The room relapsed into silence, and Captain Nibletts, finding Mrs. Church’s gaze somewhat trying got up to admire a beautiful oil painting on glass in a black frame which hung over the mantelpiece, and after a few encomiums on his host’s taste, bade him good-bye.
“I’m coming with you,” said Barber, rising; “I’ve got some business to talk about.”
“What, out again,” said Mrs. Church, tenderly, “after being on your poor feet all day?”
Captain Barber murmured something inaudible in reply, and taking his hat from the sideboard went out with Nibletts, For a time they trudged along in silence until the latter, who wanted to go to his own home, ventured to ask where they were going.
“All places are alike to me,” replied the old man, dismally. “I only want to get away, that’s all. She an’ Mrs. Banks are sure to have a turn and try and drag me into it.”
He clasped his hands behind his back, and, pausing at a turn of the road, looked down upon the little quay below. Out in the river two or three small craft rode at anchor, while a bauble of cheerful voices from a distant boat only served to emphasise the stillness of the evening.