'If you're not tired of me, I think I see one way to manage,' says she.

'Let's get married to-morrow, and Mr.Loudon can be best man before he goes to sea.' That's how she said it, crisp and bright, like one of Dickens's characters.

It was no good for me to talk about the smash.

'You'll want me all the more,' she said.

Loudon, I only pray I can make it up to her; I prayed for it last night beside your bed, while you lay sleeping--for you, and Mamie and myself; and--I don't know if you quite believe in prayer, I'm a bit Ingersollian myself--but a kind of sweetness came over me, and I couldn't help but think it was an answer.