bribed. He knew the man wouldn't work as long as he had a few cents in
his pocket to get drunk on, and, naturally (he said-"_naturally_") he
let him have a dollar or two. He was himself a sailor, he said, and
anticipated the view another sailor, like myself, was bound to take.
On the other hand, he was sure that I should have to come to grief. He
hadn't been knocking about for the last seven years up and down that
river for nothing. It would have been no disgrace to me--but he asserted
confidently I would have had my ship very awkwardly ashore at a spot two
miles below the Great Pagoda. . . .

And with all that he had no ill-will. That was evident. This was a
crisis in which his only object had been to gain time--I fancy. And
presently he mentioned that he had written for some jewellery, real good
jewellery--had written to Hong-Kong for it. It would arrive in a day or
two.

"Well, then," I said cheerily, "everything is all right. All you've got
to do is to present it to the lady together with your heart, and live
happy ever after."

Upon the whole he seemed to accept that view as far as the girl was
concerned, but his eyelids drooped. There was still something in the
way. For one thing Hermann disliked him so much. As to me, on the
contrary, it seemed as though he could not praise me enough. Mrs.
Hermann too. He didn't know why they disliked him so. It made everything
most difficult.

I listened impassive, feeling more and more diplomatic. His speech was
not transparently clear. He was one of those men who seem to live, feel,
suffer in a sort of mental twilight. But as to being fascinated by the