Wouldn't it sicken you?"
But Johnny only grinned and chuckled, shaking the tiny gold rings in
his ears till they sparkled in the faint light. He had a girl
himself in Portygee Town, at Big Wreck Cove.
The creaking of the hawsers and the "heave hos" of the crew as they
warped the _Seamew_ in to the wharf awoke the girl passenger in the
cabin. There was little fancy about the schooner's after house, but
it was comfortable.
There was a tarry smell about the place that rather pleased the
girl. The lamp over the round table vibrated in its gimbals, but did
not swing. There were several prints upon the walls of the cabin,
prints which showed the rather exceptional taste of the _Seamew's_
master, for they had been tacked up since she had come into Tunis
Latham's possession.
There was, too, a somewhat faded photograph on a background of
purple velvet, boxed in with glass, screwed to the forward
stanchion. It was the photograph of an overhealthy-looking young
woman, with scallops of hair pasted to her forehead undoubtedly
with quince-seed pomatum, her basque wrinkled across her bust
because of the high-shouldered cut of it. But it had been in the
extreme mode when it was made and worn, in the eighties.
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