He went off agin then, and I thought he 'ad done with me, but he 'adn't. He spoke to me that evening as if I was the greatest friend he 'ad in the world. I 'ad two 'arfpints with 'im at the Albion—with his missis walking up and down outside—and arter the second 'arf-pint he said he wanted to meet Dorothy and tell 'er that 'e was married, and that he 'oped she would meet some good man that was worthy of 'er.
I had a week's peace while the ship was away, but she was hardly made fast afore I 'ad it all over agin and agin.
“Are you sure there's been no more letters?” he ses.
“Sartain,” I ses.
“That's right,” he ses; “that's right. And you 'aven't seen her walking up and down?”
“No,” I ses.
“'Ave you been on the look-out?” he ses. “I don't suppose a nice gal like that would come and shove her 'ead in at the gate. Did you look up and down the road?”
“Yes,” I ses. “I've fair made my eyes ache watching for her.”
“I can't understand it,” he ses. “It's a mystery to me, unless p'r'aps she's been taken ill. She must 'ave seen me here in the fust place; and she managed to get hold of my name. Mark my words, I shall 'ear from her agin.”
“'Ow do you know?” I ses.