be sauntering about Gravesend in the pouring rain.
At about four o'clock, being fairly wet through, he saw the fallacy of
the idea strongly, and in a disconsolate fashion, after one glass at a
convenient tavern, turned to go back to the ship. A little way along the
road he stepped aside to allow a girl to pass, glancing--by mere force
of habit--beneath her umbrella as he did so. Then he started back
guiltily as his eyes met those of Miss Gething. She half stopped.

"Good-afternoon," said the skipper awkwardly.

"Good-afternoon," said she.

"Nasty weather," said the skipper, standing respectfully three yards
off.

"Wretched," said Miss Gething. "Ugh!"

"I don't mind it much myself," said the skipper.

"You must be very wet," said Miss Gething. "You are going to see mother,
I suppose?"

"I did think of doing so," said the skipper with joyous untruthfulness.

"I'm going to do a little shopping," said she. "Good-bye."

She nodded brightly, and the skipper, raising his cap, turned on his
heel and set off to pay the call. He turned his head several times as he
went, but Miss Gething, who knew more of men than the skipper knew of
women, did not turn hers.

A quarter of an hour's brisk walk brought him to the house, and he shook
the rain from his cap as he knocked gently at the door. It was opened by
a man, who, standing with his hand on the lock regarded him inquiringly.

"Mrs. Gething in?" asked the skipper.

"No, she's not just at present," said the other.

"I'll come in and wait for her if you don't mind," said the skipper,
speaking on the spur of the moment.

The other hesitated, and then standing aside to allow him to pass,
closed the door, and they entered the small parlor together. The
skipper, with a courage which surprised himself, took a chair uninvited
and began to wipe his trousers with his handkerchief.

"I'm afraid Mrs. Gething will be a long time," said the other man at
last.

"I'll give her a few minutes," said the skipper, who would have sat
there a week with pleasure.

He rubbed his moustache and beard