with a sort of crazed disdain at Jenny, she said coolly, "Well, how is
it you're not ready? Don't you see your _substitute's_ waiting! Your
_land_ lover!"

"Land!" cried Alf. "Land! A sailor!" He flushed deeply, raising his arms
a little as if to ward off some further revelation. Jenny, desperate,
had her hands higher than her head, protestingly quelling the scene. In
a loud voice she checked them.

"Do ... not ... be ... fools!" she cried. "What's all the fuss about?
Simply because Alf's a born booby, standing there like a fool! I can't
go. I wouldn't go--even if he wanted me. But he wants you!" She again
seized Emmy, delaying once more Emmy's mechanical unfastening of the big
buttons of her coat. "Alf! Get your coat. Get her out of the house! I
never heard such rubbish! Alf, say ... tell her you meant her to go! Say
it wasn't me!"

"I shouldn't believe him," Emmy said, clearly. "I know I saw him holding
your hand."

Jenny laughed hysterically.

"What a fuss!" she exclaimed. "He's been doing palmistry--reading it.
All about ... what's going to happen to me. Wasn't it, Alf!"

Emmy disregarded her, watching Alf's too-transparent uneasiness.

"You always _were_ a little lying beast," she said, venomously. "A
trickster."