"Well, I've seen many a gallant fellow in my time, Mr. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. Her aunt did not object to capital punishment or war, or the industrial system or casual wards, or flogging of criminals or the Congo Free State, because none of these things really got hold of her imagination; but she did object, she did not like, she could not bear to think of people not having and enjoying their meals. His expression became pained. Caution forced her to speak calmly. It was now whitening, hissing, and seething like an enormous cauldron. And this was an adventure of which he had dreamed from boyhood: aboard a windjammer on the South Seas. The Times slipped from his fingers. ‘Danged if I ever hear the like,’ he repeated blankly.
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