Native deck-passengers in plenty, of course, but never a white
man, so the presence of Heyst for two days must have been a godsend.
Davidson was telling us all about it afterwards. Heyst said that his
father had written a lot of books. He was a philosopher.
"Seems to me he must have been something of a crank, too," was
Davidson's comment. "Apparently he had quarrelled with his people in
Sweden. Just the sort of father you would expect Heyst to have. Isn't
he a bit of a crank himself? He told me that directly his father died he
lit out into the wide world on his own, and had been on the move till he
fetched up against this famous coal business. Fits the son of the father
somehow, don't you think?"
For the rest, Heyst was as polite as ever. He offered to pay for his
passage; but when Davidson refused to hear of it he seized him heartily
by the hand, gave one of his courtly bows, and declared that he was
touched by his friendly proceedings.
"I am not alluding to this trifling amount which you decline to take,"
he went on, giving a shake to Davidson's hand. "But I am touched by your
humanity." Another shake. "Believe me, I am profoundly aware of having
been an object of it." Final shake of the hand. All this meant that
Heyst understood in a proper sense the little Sissie's periodic
appearance in sight of his hermitage.
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