Considering that he was mistook for me more than once, it
was just as well.
He didn't marry until 'e was close on forty; and then 'e made the
mistake of marrying a widder-woman. She was like all the rest of 'em--
only worse. Afore she was married butter wouldn't melt in 'er mouth,
but as soon as she 'ad got her "lines" safe she began to make up for it.
For the fust month or two 'e didn't mind it, 'e rather liked being
fussed arter, but when he found that he couldn't go out for arf an hour
without having 'er with 'im he began to get tired of it. Her idea was
that 'e was too handsome to be trusted out alone; and every trip he made
'e had to write up in a book, day by day, wot 'e did with himself. Even
then she wasn't satisfied, and, arter saying that a wife's place was by
the side of 'er husband, she took to sailing with 'im every v'y'ge.
Wot he could ha' seen in 'er I don't know. I asked 'im one evening--in
a roundabout way--and he answered in such a long, roundabout way that I
didn't know wot to make of it till I see that she was standing just
behind me, listening. Arter that I heard 'er asking questions about me,
but I didn't 'ave to listen: I could hear 'er twenty yards away, and
singing to myself at the same time.
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