across it to a woman who was only a laugh, for she was hidden. One of
the men turned from the counter to see who had come in.

"Hullo Mac," he cried, in a voice hearty with the abandon of one who,
perhaps, had been there long enough; "look here, here's Jessie says she's
going to leave us."

A woman's hand, spoiled by many heavy rings, moved across the counter and
shook his arm in warning. The youngster merely closed his own hand over
it. "Isn't it hard. Really going to forsake us. Won't mix your whiskey
or uncork my lemonade any more. What are we going to do when we come
home now?"

There was an impatient muttering beyond him, and he made public a
soothing and exaggerated apology. All the men in the room, even the
group bent over a diagram of a marine engine they had drawn in chalk on
their table, looked up in surprise, first at the youngster who had raised
his voice, and then to watch the tall shadow of a woman pass quickly down
the counter-screen and vanish. Still laughing, the young man, with his
uniform cap worn a little too carelessly, nodded to the company, and went
out with his companion.

Macandrew stared in contempt at the back of the fellow as he went. "A
nice boy that. Too bright and bonny for my ship. What's that he was
saying about Jessie?" He tried to see where she was, and lowered his
voice. "I know his kind. I saw them together last night, in the Dock
Road. What does she have anything to do with him for? We know her of
course . . . but even then. . . . She's really not a bad sort. She's
like that with all those young dogs. Can't help it, I suppose."