I'm getting old; I'm growing nervous...."
"You always were as chickeny as an old hen, Joe."
"Well, my nature's not like yours. To come to the point, I want to sell
my ships and retire. I need rest. Freights are very depressed. I've got
my family to think of."
"Crack on, and go broke; buck you up like anything!"
"I'm quite serious, Sylvanus."
"Never knew you anything else, Joe."
A quavering cough, and out it had come:
"Now--in a word--won't your 'Island Navigation Company' buy my ships?"
A pause, a twinkle, a puff of smoke. "Make it worth my while!" He
had said it in jest; and then, in a flash, the idea had come to him.
Rosamund and her youngsters! What a chance to put something between them
and destitution when he had joined the majority! And so he said: "We
don't want your silly ships."
That claw of a hand waved in deprecation. "They're very good
ships--doing quite well. It's only my wretched health. If I were a
strong man I shouldn't dream...."
"What d'you want for 'em?" Good Lord! how he jumped if you asked him a
plain question. The chap was as nervous as a guinea-fowl!
"Here are the figures--for the last four years. I think you'll agree
that I couldn't ask less than seventy thousand.
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