“This,” he exclaimed, “must be either the indifference of an utterly callous nature, or it may be—ye gods, it may be—innocence. And Ramage too—about Ramage there would always be that air of avidity, that air of knowledge and inquiry, the mixture of things in his talk that were rather good with things that were rather poor. He stood up, apparently intending to put an arm about her, but she stepped back from him quickly. "He's not my son," rejoined the carpenter. I do not blame you for the act. Husband of mine, I think we have rather overrated the emotional capacity of those—those dears. The captain saw it too and nodded at the boy.
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