“There’s a letter for you,” she said suddenly.

Frank sat up.

“Where?”

“In the drawer there—­by your hand.  Frankie....”

Frank tore at the handle and it came off.  He uttered a short exclamation.  Then, with infinite craft he fitted the handle in again, wrapped in yet one more scrap of the Sporting Times, and drew out the drawer.  His face fell abruptly as he saw the handwriting.

“That can wait,” he muttered, and chucked the letter face downwards on to the table.

“Frankie,” said the girl again, still intent on her frying-pan.

“Well?”

“It’s all my fault,” she said in a low voice.

“Your fault!  How do you make that out?”

“If it hadn’t been for me, you wouldn’t have taken the tin from George, and....”

“Oh, Lord!” said Frank, “if we once begin on that!...  And if it hadn’t been for George, he wouldn’t have taken the tin; and if it hadn’t been for Maggie Cooper, there wouldn’t have been the tin; and if it hadn’t been for Maggie’s father’s sister, she wouldn’t have gone out with it.  It’s all Maggie’s father’s sister’s fault, my dear!  It’s nothing to do with you.”

The words were brisk enough, but the manner was very heavy.  It was like repeating a lesson learned in childhood.

“That’s all right,” began Gertie again, “but—­”

“My dear girl, I shall be annoyed if you go back to all that.  Why can’t you let it alone?  The point is, What’s to happen?  I can’t go on sponging on you and the Major.”

Gertie flushed under her tan.

“If you ever leave us,” she said, “I’ll—­”

“Well?”

“I’ll ...  I’ll never leave George.”

Frank was puzzled for a moment.  It seemed a non sequitur.

“Do you mean—­”

“I’ve got me eyes,” said Gertie emphatically, “and I know what you’re thinking, though you don’t say much.  And I’ve been thinking, too.”

Frank felt a faint warmth rise in his own heart.  “You mean you’ve been thinking over what I said the other day?”

Gertie bent lower over her frying-pan and scraped harder than ever.

“Do stop that confounded row one second!” shouted Frank.

The noise stopped abruptly.  Gertie glanced up and down again.  Then she began again, more gently.

“That’s better,” said Frank....  “Well, I hope you have,” he went on paternally.  “You’re a good girl, Gertie, and you know better.  Go on thinking about it, and tell me when you’ve made up your mind.  When’ll dinner be ready?”

“Half an hour,” said Gertie.

“Well, I’ll go out for a bit and look round.”

He took up the letter carelessly and went out.

(III)

As he passed the window Gertie glanced towards it with the corner of her eye.  Then, frying-pan still in hand, she crept up to the angle and watched him go down the quay.