By the time the ship had been towed out of sight past Greenwich Reach, it was hard upon one o’clock. My uncle had ordered some sandwiches and sherry as an excuse for us to sit and watch the ship. This was no entertainment for me, who had not partaken of it, indeed, and who had breakfasted but lightly early that morning. My uncle called for the bill, and then rose to go. He told us he had an appointment which he would have barely time to keep. My aunt said to me: ‘What are you going to do?’ I returned no answer, for I had not made up my mind. ‘Come home with me, dear,’ said my aunt, ‘and dine with us at half-past two.’ I did not care to go home with her; first, because I felt I should be losing sight of Captain Butler, and, next, because they were full of grief for the departure of their son; so that my presence would be a sort of impertinence, whilst, again, I could not at all relish the prospect of a long and melancholy afternoon and evening spent in the neighbourhood of the Tower. So, after reflecting a minute or two, I said: ‘I’ll not go home with you, aunt. I’ll dine here and then take rail to Fenchurch Street and make my way to Hyde Park. A brisk walk will do me good. I feel as though I had lost a brother.’ ‘I can’t stop,’ said my uncle, beginning to bustle. My aunt saw how it was, and looked at me reproachfully. ‘I must return with your uncle,’ said she. ‘Are you to be left alone here? But what if you are? Your being alone about London and the neighbourhood is quite too much a habit with you, Marian--a practice I can’t approve. Which way do you go?’ she continued, looking at Captain Butler. ‘I’ll remain with Miss Johnstone, if she will suffer me to do so,’ he replied. I smiled and coloured and bowed to him. ‘I can stop no longer,’ said my uncle, pulling out a great watch. My aunt looked ‘hung in the wind,’ to use the phrase of the sailor, as though she understood she ought not to leave me alone with Captain Butler; but she correctly guessed that I did not want her; indeed, her remaining would have made me angry, and no doubt my fear of her intentions showed in my face. ‘Well,’ said she, ‘I could not leave you in better hands. Captain Butler will carefully look after you, I am sure.’ And she went quickly after her husband, who would wait for her no longer. Captain Butler rang the bell and ordered some dinner. I was to be his guest, he said. ‘But why, Miss Johnstone, do you wish to go all the way to Hyde Park?’ ‘It is no wish. I’ll go wherever you please.’ ‘We are close to Greenwich here. Shall we take a turn about Greenwich Park presently? The days are still short, and you are not so far from your house at Greenwich as you would be at Kensington.’