indeed--in steering the clumsy male mind for its good.

But, as we have recorded, Nicky-Nan, having suffered in early life
from a woman, had been turned to a distrust of the sex; a general
distrust which preoccupied with its shadow the bright exception that,
on a second thought, he was ready enough to recognise in Mrs
Penhaligon.

This second thought came too late, however. He took one step towards
the door, guided by the glimmer, beneath it, of her retreating
candle. His hand even fumbled for the latch, and found it. But a
sudden shyness seized him and he drew back. He heard her footsteps
creaking on the party-stairs: heard the sound of her door softly
closed, then the sound of a bolt thrust home in its socket; and
turned to face darkness.

His brain worked quite clearly. He guessed well enough what had
happened. In his youth he had often listened, without taking note of
their talk, while his elders debated how it came about that the Old
Doctor had left, beyond some parcels of real estate--cottage property
for the most part, the tenants of which were notoriously lax in
paying their rents--but a very few personal effects. There were book
debts in an inordinate mass; and the heirs found an inordinate
difficulty in collecting them, since the inhabitants of Polpier--a
hardy sea-faring race--had adopted a cheerful custom of paying for
deliverance from one illness when they happened (if ever they did) to
contract another: and this custom they extended even to that branch
of medical service which by tradition should be rewarded in ready
money. ("I always," explained a Polpier matron, "pays 'en ver one
when I engages 'en ver the next; an' the laast I'll never pay ver"--