“She mustn’t go,” said Flower, at length. “I’ll go down and see her to-morrow night. You go first and break the news to her, and I’ll follow on. Do it gently, Jack. It’s quite safe; there’s nobody she can talk to now; she’s left the Wheelers, and I’m simply longing to see her. You don’t know what it is to be in love, Jack.”
“What am I to tell her?” enquired the other, hastily.
“Tell her I was saved,” was the reply. “I’ll do the rest. By Jove, I’ve got it.”
He banged the table so hard that his plate jumped and the glasses in the bar rattled in protest.
“Anything wrong with the grub?” enquired the landlord, severely.
Flower, who was all excitement, shook his head.
“Because if there is,” continued the landlord, “I’d sooner you spoke of it than smash the table; never mind about hurting my feelings.”
He wiped down the counter to show that Flower’s heated glances had no effect upon him, withdrawing reluctantly to serve an impatient customer.
“I’ll go down to-morrow morning to the Golden Cloud and try and ship before the mast,” said Flower, excitably; “get married out in New Zealand, and then come home when things are settled. What do you think of that, my boy? How does that strike you?”
“How will it strike Cap’n Barber?” asked Fraser, as soon as he had recovered sufficiently to speak.