Chalk passed the time in a state of nervous excitement,
which only tended to confirm his wife in her suspicions of his behaviour.
Without any preliminaries he would burst out suddenly into snatches of
sea-songs, the "Bay of Biscay" being an especial favourite, until Mrs.
Chalk thought fit to observe that, "if the thunder did roar like that she
should not be afraid of it." Ever sensitive to a fault, Mr. Chalk fell
back upon "Tom Bowling," which he thought free from openings of that
sort, until Mrs. Chalk, after commenting upon the inability of the late
Mr. Bowling to hear the tempest's howling, indulged in idle speculations
as to what he would have thought of Mr. Chalk's. Tredgold and Stobell
bought papers on the station, but Mr. Chalk was in too exalted a mood for
reading. The bustle and life as the train became due were admirably
attuned to his feelings, and when it drew up and they embarked, to the
clatter of milk-cans and the rumbling of trolleys, he was beaming with
satisfaction.
"I feel that I can smell the sea already," he remarked.
Mr. Stobell put down his paper and sniffed; then he resumed it again and,
meeting Mr. Tredgold's eye over the top of it, sniffed more loudly than
before.
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