"If a rough fellow like me can beguile the weary
hours till her friends come here, she is heartily welcome to all that I
can tell her."
He was out of spirits and restless now whenever he was by himself.
Little by little he fell into a habit of taking long, lonely walks at
night, when Magdalen thought he was sleeping upstairs. Once he went away
abruptly in the day-time--on business, as he said. Something had passed
between Magdalen and himself the evening before which had led her into
telling him her age. "Twenty last birthday," he thought. "Take twenty
from forty-one. An easy sum in subtraction--as easy a sum as my little
nephew could wish for." He walked to the Docks, and looked bitterly at
the shipping. "I mustn't forget how a ship is made," he said. "It won't
be long before I am back at the old work again." On leaving the Docks
he paid a visit to a brother sailor--a married man. In the course
of conversation he asked how much older his friend might be than his
friend's wife. There was six years' difference between them. "I suppose
that's difference enough?" said Kirke. "Yes," said his friend; "quite
enough. Are you looking out for a wife at last? Try a seasoned woman of
thirty-five--that's your mark, Kirke, as near as I can calculate.
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