"Come with me, my love, come—come," cried his mother, seizing his hand, and endeavouring to force him away. Of what was she thinking? She must rescue herself. I don’t mind telling you chaps that except on the stage I haven’t set eyes on her this side of the water. ‘No, you don’t. Already she knew that she was overstaying her welcome. It was a port of call, since fortnightly a British mail-boat dropped her mudhook in the bay. Even in her painting smock and with her disarranged hair, the likeness between the two girls was marvellous. They were drenched with water and suds.
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