McCann's faith was touching.
“Ye're not to say another word, sir,” he said, and he stuck out his big hand, which I grasped warmly.
My affection for McCann still remains a strong one.
After my talk with McCann I was sitting on the forecastle propped against the bitts of the Maria's anchor-chain, and looking at the swirling foam cast up by the tug's propeller. There were many things I wished to turn over in my mind just then, but I had not long been in a state of reverie when I became conscious that Miss Thorn was standing beside me. I got to my feet.
“I have been wondering how long you would remain in that trance, Mr. Crocker,” she said. “Is it too much to ask what you were thinking of?”
Now it so chanced that I was thinking of her at that moment. It would never have done to say this, so I stammered. And Miss Thorn was a young woman of tact.
“I should not have put that to so literal a man as you,” she declared. “I fear that you are incapable of crossing swords. And then,” she added, with a slight hesitation that puzzled me, “I did not come up here to ask you that,—I came to get your opinion.”
“My opinion?” I repeated.
“Not your legal opinion,” she replied, smiling, “but your opinion as a citizen, as an individual, if you have one. To be frank, I want your opinion of me. Do you happen to have such a thing?”
I had. But I was in no condition to give it.