Gents pays en to take his likeness; an'
theer's gals make money so, more'n wan; but faither says 'tis a heathenish
way of livin' an' not honest. An'--an' I'd never let nobody paint me else
but you, Mister Jan, 'cause you'm different."
"Well, you make me a proud man, Joan. I'm afraid I must be a poor
substitute for Joe."
He noticed she had never mentioned her sweetheart since their early
interviews, and wanted to ascertain of what nature was Joan's affection for
the sailor. He did not yet dream how faint a thing poor Joe had shrunk to
be in Joan's mind, or how the present episode in her life was dwarfing and
dominating all others, present and past.
Nor did the girl's answer to his remark enlighten him.
"In coorse you an' Joe's differ'nt as can be. You knaws everything
seemin'ly an' be a gen'le-man; Joe's only a seafarin' man, an' 'e doan't
knaw much 'cept what he's larned from faither. But Joe used to say a sight
more'n what you do, for all that."
"I like to hear you talk, Joan; perhaps Joe liked to hear himself talk.
Most men do. But, you see, the things you have told me are pleasant to me
and they were not to Joe, because he didn't believe in them. Don't look at
me, Joan; look right away to the edge of the sea."
"You'm surprised like as I talks to ye, Mister Jan. Doan't ladies talk so
free as what I do?"
"Other women talk, but they are very seldom in earnest like you are, Joan.
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