When she understood, she laughed till the tears
came to her eyes, and presently, because Lafarge seemed hurt, gave him to
understand that he was upon his honour if she told him what it was. He
consenting, she, still laughing, asked him into the house, and then drew
the keg from the pail, before his eyes, and, tapping it, gave him some
liquor, which he accepted without churlishness. He found nothing in this
to lessen her in his eyes, for he knew that women have no civic virtues.
He drank to their better acquaintance with few compunctions; a matter not
scandalous, for there is nothing like a witty woman to turn a man's head,
and there was not so much at stake after all. Tarboe had gone on for
many a year till his trade seemed like the romance of law rather than its
breach. It is safe to say that Lafarge was a less sincere if not a less
blameless customs officer from this time forth. For humour on a woman's
lips is a potent thing, as any man knows that has kissed it off in
laughter.
As we said, Tarboe lay rocking in a bight at Anticosti, with an empty
hold and a scanty larder. Still, he was in no ill-humour, for he smoked
much and talked more than common. Perhaps that was because Joan was with
him--an unusual thing. She was as good a sailor as her father, but she
did not care, nor did he, to have her mixed up with him in his smuggling.
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