"Not in the least!"--Jasper apparently was almost as
scandalised as the Captain.
At Liverpool, at the dock, when we had touched, twenty people came on
board and I had already made out Mr. Porterfield at a distance. He was
looking up at the side of the great vessel with disappointment
written--for my strained eyes--in his face; disappointment at not seeing
the woman he had so long awaited lean over it and wave her handkerchief
to him. Every one was looking at him, every one but she--his identity
flew about in a moment--and I wondered if it didn't strike him. He used
to be gaunt and angular, but had grown almost fat and stooped a little.
The interval between us diminished--he was on the plank and then on the
deck with the jostling agents of the Customs; too soon for my equanimity.
I met him instantly, however, to save him from exposure--laid my hand on
him and drew him away, though I was sure he had no impression of having
seen me before. It was not till afterwards that I thought this rather
characteristically dull of him. I drew him far away--I was conscious of
Mrs. Peck and Mrs. Gotch, looking at us as we passed--into the empty
stale smoking-room: he remained speechless, and that struck me as like
him. I had to speak first, he couldn't even relieve me by saying "Is
anything the matter?" I broke ground by putting it, feebly, that she was
ill.
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