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Any one at the Judge's, Blayne? BLAYNE. Cockley and his memsahib looking awfully white and fagged. 'Female girl couldn't catch the name on her way to the Hills, under the Cockleys' charge the Judge, and Markyn fresh from Simla disgustingly fit. CURTISS. Good Lord, how truly magnificent! Was there enough ice? When I mangled garbage there I got one whole lump nearly as big as a walnut.
I'm a little in that line myself." And he handed me his card. HOPSBY, COCKLEY & CO., 20 Warren Street, New York City. "My name is Cockley," he added. I had heard of him often, and was very glad to meet him, though I would have been still happier if he were not selling the Norwich revolvers.
Babies can drop them; boys can throw them at each other, and women can use them as stocking-darners. Mr. Hopsby drops one into the contribution box every Sunday, and expects, in the course of a few years, to provide every young African with a time piece." I didn't get it quite clear in my mind whether Cockley was guying me or not, but he looked as if he were simply trying to be sociable.
We were going down the street when Cockley struck an attitude and pointed to a sign over the way: "I told you I knew no one; I was joking. There's a friend's. Let's go over and see Bewell. He'll be glad to see us and give us the whole town. He was in New York this spring, and we had a good time together studying up art.
I'm so important that Government can't find a substitute if I go away. Ye-es, I'd like to be Gaddy, whoever his wife may be. CURTISS. You've passed the turn of life that Mackesy was speaking of. DOONE. Indeed I have, but I never yet had the brutality to ask a woman to share my life out here. BLAYNE. On my soul I believe you're right. I'm thinking of Mrs. Cockley. The woman's an absolute wreck.
I think an enterprising tradesman got some of it, and a shroff gobbled the rest or else I spent it. CURTISS. Gaddy never had dealings with a shroff in his life. DOONE. Virtuous Gaddy! If I had three thousand a month, paid from England, I don't think I'd deal with a shroff either. I wonder whether matrimony would make it sweeter. CURTISS. Ask Cockley with his wife dying by inches!
She won't leave Cockley, and he's doing his best to get her to go. CURTISS. Good, indeed! Here's Mrs. Cockley's health. To the only wife in the Station and a damned brave woman! BLAYNE. I suppose Gaddy will bring his wife here at the end of the cold weather. They are going to be married almost immediately, I believe.
I followed him in with some fear of a joke being played on me, but his manner changed at the door, and we met Bewell as if we were all deacons. He gave Cockley a very warm reception, as if thoroughly glad to see him. I concluded I was in the way, so with a promise to call later, I betook myself to another house. I did not meet Cockley again for many months.
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