They had been awfully good to him; they had in very truth played the
part of the good Samaritan; and in his mind he compared these simple
folk, buried in an out-of-the-way fishing village, with some of his
fashionable friends. Which of them would have nursed him as he had been
nursed at The Cottage, would have treated him as one of the family,
would have lavished upon him a regard nearly akin to affection? It was a
hollow world, he thought, and he wished to Heaven he had been born in
Shorne Mills, and got his living as a fisherman, putting in his spare
time by looking after, say, the _Annie Laurie_!

He had wired to his man, and he found his rooms all ready for him. He
wondered as he looked round the handsome and tastefully furnished
sitting room, while Sparling helped him off with his coat, whether he
should be able to afford to keep them up much longer.

"Any news, Sparling?" he asked. "Hope you've been all right," he added,
in the pleasant and friendly way with which he always addressed those
who did service for him.

"Thank you, my lord," said Sparling, "I've been very well; but I was
much upset to hear of your lordship's accident, and very sorry you
wouldn't let me come to you."

The man spoke with genuine sympathy and regret, for he was attached to
Drake, and was fully convinced that he had the best, the handsomest, and
the most desirable master in all England.