"I tried to have it out with Rosa as we went down to the Via Milano that night. Perhaps I was unreasonable. Perhaps I showed jealousy—a foolish thing to do. We parted rather cross with each other. You see, I'd never spent money like water on her. I was saving to have a home.
"I had rather a hard day following. The boilers had to be gone through, and that's a job I never leave to the Second. The boilers are the vitals of a ship. I don't care what happens in the engine-room so long as my boilers are all right. And so I was a bit late getting away at night. I went along to Rebecca's. Rosa was serving in the café, and I began to grumble to Rebecca. I told her that if necessary I would pay for some one else to do that work until we were married. Not that the chaps annoyed Rosa now that she was engaged, but I didn't like the idea of it. Rebecca said Rosa was doing it of her own accord. She said she didn't know what had come over the girl. Rosa came upstairs, and when I told her not to go into the café, she said she'd do as she liked. She said she didn't want to go out that evening; would rather stay at home. We had words....
"I left in a huff, I suppose, and went back to the ship. I felt badly used. The Old Man came along to my room and spent a couple of hours telling me how that new mess-man had won ten thousand francs. There were all sorts of frills to the story as he knew it. One of the clerks at the agent's had told him that the man was an English milord. That was a bit of my brother's cleverness. He had registered at the Bristol as Francis Lord. Of course, the papers had made the most of it.
"For two days I never went ashore. I was annoyed at Rosa. You know, these little tiffs are inevitable, though I must say we'd managed without them up to this. I said to myself that when she wanted me again she could have me. The mood lasted two days. I began to get anxious. I couldn't rest. After all, we were engaged. The ship went home for survey next voyage, it was rumoured, and I had promised Rosa we should go together. I put on my shore-clothes and went up to Rebecca's. I went in to have a drink first, intending to go round to the private door afterwards. Just as I sat down Rebecca came in and saw me. She beckoned me to come inside. We went upstairs. 'What's the matter?' I said. 'Rosa!' says Rebecca. 'She went out this evening to meet you, she said, and she's not back yet.'
"For a moment I couldn't quite see the drift. Perhaps I'm slow. But then I realized what might have happened. I took my hat and ran downstairs. Outside a carriage was crawling past. I jumped into it and told the man to drive all he knew to the Bristol. It's a stiff climb, but those two horses tore along the Principe, past the station, through Piazza Caricamento, up Via Lorenzo, full tilt. I jumped out and ran into the hotel and asked for the manager. I described my brother as well as I could. 'Yes, yes,' he said, 'that would be Signore Lord.' He had just paid his bill and gone. He was to get the Twenty-fifteen for Milan. The commissionaire said the Signore Lord had driven to the Brignole station, though he had been advised to go to the Principe, where he could get a better seat. I gave the man a franc and bolted out again. 'Stazione Brignole,' I told the man, and away we went. The 'Twenty-fifteen' would be there in about ten minutes. Five minutes later I was in the dreary, half-lighted, bare-looking waiting-room. There was only one person in sight. It was Rosa."
Mr. Carville paused and raised his head. We became aware of some one calling. I turned and beheld Mrs. Carville standing, her hands on her hips, at her door. She was calling to her husband in a clear, strong, vibrant voice. With a slight shrug, he rose.
"Si, si, Rosa," he replied equably, and then to us he smiled and, raising his hat, set it well over his eyes. He looked at his watch.
"Gee!" he said, "I must be off. I'll have to finish the yarn another time. Good day to you."
Looking down at his boots for a moment reflectively, and pocketing his pipe, he stepped down and walked sedately towards his house.