I imagined he referred to his wife, and that he was feeling his way in this roundabout fashion to talk about her. ‘There is no necessity to be imprisoned for five weeks,’ said I. ‘Your yacht is not an ocean liner full of passengers whose stares and whispers might indeed prove embarrassing. So far as I am concerned I am quite willing to promise very honestly never even to look. Miss Jennings is all tenderness and sweetness and sympathy; there could be nothing to found a plea for seclusion upon in her presence. As to the sailors,’ I continued, noticing without comprehending an air of bewilderment that was growing upon his face as I talked, ‘Jack meets with so many astonishments in his vocation that surprise and curiosity are almost lost arts with him. The crew will take one long thirsty stare; then turn their quids and give what passes aft no further heed whatever.’ ‘I don’t follow you,’ he exclaimed, poising his pipe, with his eyes intently fixed on me; ‘what are you talking about?’ ‘You were speaking of the tediousness of a five weeks’ imprisonment!’ ‘Quite right,’ said he, ‘and tedious it is if it’s to last five weeks.’ ‘But, my dear Wilfrid, I was endeavouring to point out that the imprisonment to which you refer is unnecessary; in fact, after last night----’ But here I suddenly bit my lip to the perception that it would be rash and unwise on my part to let him know that his wife had been present at Colonel Hope-Kennedy’s burial. ‘What I mean is,’ I continued, talking rapidly, ‘if it’s a mere question of sensitiveness or pride recoiling from observation, why not imitate the great Mokanna: “O’er his features hung The Veil, the Silver Veil which he had flung In mercy there to hide from human sight His dazzling brow till men could bear its light.” In our case we have no dazzling brow, and consequently require no silver veils; but in Miss Laura’s wardrobe there should be----’ He was now gaping at me, and cried out, ‘Your brain wanders this morning, Charles. Do you mean that _I_ should go veiled?’ ‘You!’ I exclaimed; ‘certainly not. I am not talking of you.’ ‘But I am talking of myself, though,’ he cried. I looked at him with amazement. ‘You do not mean to say that _you_ intend to imprison yourself in this cabin till we get home?’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t imprison myself,’ he answered, ‘I am imprisoned.’ ‘By whom, pray?’ ‘Can’t you see?’ I ran my eyes round the cabin. ‘No, no!’ he shouted, ‘look at _me_. Don’t you perceive that I can’t get out? How am I to pass through that door?’ ‘How are you to pass through that door?’ I exclaimed; ‘Why, by walking through it, of course. How else!’ ‘Ay, and that’s just what I can’t do,’ said he with a melancholy shake of the head. ‘But why not, Wilfrid?’ I cried, scarcely yet understanding how it was with him. ‘Because,’ he answered petulantly, looking down himself, then at his arms and legs, ‘I am too big.’