The Wrecker by Robert Louis Stevenson;Lloyd Osbourne
page 6 of 479 (01%)
page 6 of 479 (01%)
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main cabin.
"Mr. Dodd, I believe," said he, addressing a smallish, bearded gentleman, who sat writing at the table. "Why," he cried, "it isn't Loudon Dodd?" "Myself, my dear fellow," replied Mr. Dodd, springing to his feet with companionable alacrity. "I had a half-hope it might be you, when I found your name on the papers. Well, there's no change in you; still the same placid, fresh-looking Britisher." "I can't return the compliment; for you seem to have become a Britisher yourself," said Havens. "I promise you, I am quite unchanged," returned Dodd. "The red tablecloth at the top of the stick is not my flag; it's my partner's. He is not dead, but sleepeth. There he is," he added, pointing to a bust which formed one of the numerous unexpected ornaments of that unusual cabin. Havens politely studied it. "A fine bust," said he; "and a very nice-looking fellow." "Yes; he's a good fellow," said Dodd. "He runs me now. It's all his money." "He doesn't seem to be particularly short of it," added the other, peering with growing wonder round the cabin. "His money, my taste," said Dodd. "The black-walnut bookshelves are Old |
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