He divined this with the quick sensibility that marks all deformed people.

His green eyes kindled.

In the pride of his soul he had almost forgotten Tristram.
The sight of the English coast, dim and purple beneath the declining sun, brought it back to him with a pang.

After all, Tristram was still lost, and his journey to Holland had been a failure therefore.
With a sudden contempt for all that a moment before he had been enjoying, he turned to his friend and asked him to take charge for a while.
Nothing more was said, but Captain Runacles guessed what drove the little man below like a wounded beast, and began to pace the deck gloomily.
"He'll never take it up again," he muttered.

"It's all very well, and he thinks he's getting comfort out of it.