She went off crying. Her trouble was
attributed by crew and passengers to my coldness. One fool planted
himself opposite me with his legs apart, and shook his head at me.
"Go down and comfort her," he began. "Take an old man's advice.
Put your arms around her. " (He was one of those sentimental
idiots.) "Tell her that you love her."
I told him to go and hang himself, with so much vigour that he all
but fell overboard. He was saved by a poultry crate: I had no luck
that day.
At Ryde the guard, by superhuman effort, contrived to keep us a
carriage to ourselves. I gave him a shilling, because I did not
know what else to do. I would have made it half-a-sovereign if he
had put eight other passengers in with us. At every station people
came to the window to look in at us.
I handed Minnie over to her father on Ventnor platform; and I took
the first train the next morning, to London. I felt I did not want
to see her again for a little while; and I felt convinced she could
do without a visit from me. Our next meeting took place the week
before her marriage.
"Where are you going to spend your honeymoon?" I asked her; "in the
New Forest?"
"No," she replied; "nor in the Isle of Wight.
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