"That's the end of Monsieur Martel." "Nom de Gyu! We'll hope so," said the other.

"But I'd sooner seen him dead and buried." "'Crais b'en!" said the other with a knowing nod.

For all the world knew that if Paul Martel had never come to Sercq, Rachel Carre might have become Mistress Hamon instead of Madame Martel--and very much better for her if she had.
For Martel, in spite of his taking ways and the polished manners of his courting days, had proved anything but a good husband, and he had wound up a long period of indifference and neglect with a grievous bodily assault which had stirred the clan spirit of the Islanders into active reprisal.
They would make of it an object-lesson to the other Island girls which would be likely to further the wooings of the Island lads for a long time to come.
Martel, you see, came from Guernsey, but he was only half a Guernsey man at that.

His father was a Manche man from Cherbourg, who happened to get wrecked on the Hanois, and settled and married in Peter Port.

Paul Martel had grown up to the sea.