laughing-stock to Dartymoor, and a figure of fun for every thoughtless
fool to snigger at."

"You couldn't help his doing it," I said. "'Tis a free country."

"And more could he help it, seemingly," she answered. "Any way he swore he
was driven to speak. In fact he have had the thing in his prayers for a
fortnight. 'Tis a most ondacent, plaguey prank for love to play; for
surely at our time of life, we ought to be dead to such things?"

"A man's never dead to such things--especially a man that's been a
soldier, or a sailor," I told my sister; and Susan said the same, and
assured Mary that there was nothing whatever ondacent to it, silly though
it might be.

Then Mary fired up in her turn and said there wasn't nothing whatever
silly to it that she could see. In fact quite the contrary, and she dared
Susan to use the word about her, or Mr. Battle either. And she rattled on
in her violent and excited way and was on the verge of the hystericals now
and again. And for my life I couldn't tell if she was pleased as Punch
about it, or in a proper tearing rage. I don't think she knew herself how
she felt.

We poured some sloe gin into her and calmed her down, and then my eldest
son took her home; and when he came back, he said that Bob Battle had gone
to bed.

"I looked in where he sleeps," said my son, "and Bob was in his shirt,
quite calm and composed, saying his prayers."