trouble in my time, mate; you
may trust me--go on, what is it?"

"She's married," said Lovibond.

Davy gave a prolonged whistle. "That's bad," he said. "I'm symperthizing
with you. You've been fishing with another man's floats and losing your
labor. I'm feeling for you. 'Deed I am."

"It's not myself I'm thinking of," said Lovibond. "It's that angel of a
woman. She's not only married, but married to a brute."

"That's wuss still," said Davy.

"And not only married to a brute," said Lovibond, "but parted from him."

Davy gave a yet longer whistle. "O-ho, O-ho! A quarrel is it?" he cried.
"Husband and wife, eh? Aw, take care, sir, take care. Women is 'cute.
Extraordinary wayses they've at them of touching a man up under the
watch-pocket of the weskit till you'd never think nothing but they're
angels fresh down from heaven, and you could work at the docks to keep
them; but maybe cunning as ould Harry all the time, and playing the
divil with some poor man. It's me for knowing them. Husband and wife?
That'll do, that'll do. Lave them alone, mate, lave them alone."

"Ah, the sweet creature has had a terrible time of it!" said Lovibond,
lying back and looking up at the ceiling.

"I lave it with you," said Davy, charging his pipe afresh as a signal of
his neutrality.

"He must have led her a fearful life," continued Lovibond.

Davy lit up, and puffed vigorously.

"It would appear," said Lovibond, "that though she is so like a lady,
she is entirely dependent upon her husband."

"Well, well," said Davy, between puff and puff.

"He didn't forget that either, for he seems to have taunted her with her
poverty."

A growl, like an oath half smothered by smoke, came from Davy.

"Indeed, that was the cause of quarrel."

"She did well to lave him," said Davy, watching the coils of his smoke
going upward.

"Nay, it was he who left her."

"The villain!" said Davy. But after Davy had delivered himself so there
was nothing to be heard for the next ten seconds but the sucking of lips
over the pipe.

"And now," said Lovibond, "she can not stir out of doors but she finds
herself the gossip of the island, and the gaze of every passer-by."

"Poor thing, poor thing!" said Davy.

"He must be a low, vulgar fellow," said Lovibond; "and yet--would you
believe it?--she wouldn't hear a word against him."

"The sweet woman!" said Davy.

"It's my firm belief that she loves the fellow still," said Lovibond.

"I wouldn't trus