" "You needn't trouble yourself," replied Thames. "Friday!" echoed Mrs. She spied him sitting on his armless black couch, his feet splayed as he stared at his television blankly. It was impulsive and natural. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson. "Mrs. She realized that no man had ever placed a mantle of respect upon her as Sebastian did; respect for more than just her pretty face and her now lost ability to bear children. "I am glad you think that," she replied. " "I tell 'ee what, landlord," observed the old sailor, quietly replenishing his pipe from a huge pewter tobacco-box, as the waterman and Wood quitted the house, "you've said good-b'ye to your friend.
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