“Don’t say things you’ll be sorry for,” I ses.

“I’ll take care o’ that,” she ses.  “I might be sorry for not saying some things, but I don’t think I shall.”

I don’t think she was.  I don’t think she forgot anything, and she raked up things that I ’ad contradicted years ago and wot I thought was all forgot.  And every now and then, when she stopped for breath, she’d try and get round to the same side of the table I was.

She follered me to the street door when I went and called things up the road arter me.  I ’ad a snack at a coffee-shop for my dinner, but I ’adn’t got much appetite for it; I was too full of trouble and finding fault with myself, and I went off to my work with a ’art as heavy as lead.

I suppose I ’adn’t been on the wharf ten minutes afore Cap’n Smithers came sidling up to me, but I got my spoke in fust.

“Look ’ere,” I ses, “if you’re going to talk about that forward hussy wot’s been writing to you, I ain’t.  I’m sick and tired of ’er.”

“Forward hussy!” he ses.  “Forward hussy!” And afore I could drop my broom he gave me a punch in the jaw that pretty near broke it.  “Say another word against her,” he ses, “and I’ll knock your ugly ’ead off.  How dare you insult a lady?”

I thought I should ’ave gone crazy at fust, but I went off into the office without a word.  Some men would ha’ knocked ’im down for it, but I made allowances for ‘is state o’ mind, and I stayed inside until I see ’im get aboard agin.

He was sitting on deck when I went out, and his missis too, but neither of ’em spoke a word.  I picked up my broom and went on sweeping, when suddenly I ’eard a voice at the gate I thought I knew, and in came my wife.

“Ho!” she ses, calling out.  “Ain’t you gone to meet that gal at Cleopatra’s Needle yet?  You ain’t going to keep ’er waiting, are you?”

“H’sh!” I ses.

“H’sh! yourself,” she ses, shouting.  “I’ve done nothing to be ashamed of.  I don’t go to meet other people’s husbands in a blue ’at with red roses.  I don’t write ’em love-letters, and say ‘H’sh!’ to my wife when she ventures to make a remark about it.  I may work myself to skin and bone for a man wot’s old enough to know better, but I’m not going to be trod on.  Dorothy, indeed!  I’ll Dorothy ’er if I get the chance.”

Mrs. Smithers, wot ’ad been listening with all her ears, jumped up, and so did the skipper, and Mrs. Smithers came to the side in two steps.

“Did you say ‘Dorothy,’ ma’am?” she ses to my missis.

“I did,” ses my wife.  “She’s been writing to my husband.”

“It must be the same one,” ses Mrs. Smithers.  “She’s been writing to mine too.”

The two of ’em stood there looking at each other for a minute, and then my wife, holding the letter between ’er finger and thumb as if it was pison, passed it to Mrs. Smithers.

“It’s the same,” ses Mrs. Smithers.  “Was the envelope marked ’Private’?”