they liked the same kind of sausages.
'Do we?' Matthew asked, just as calmly.
'We believe he'd like to meet you,' she said.
Matthew didn't answer. It suddenly seemed very lonely, on this street.
'When you're ready, in a week or two, we'd like you to come visit us. Will you do that?'
His lip felt the graze of a hook. He sensed the silent falling of a net. 'What if I don't?'
'Oh,' she said, with a tight smile, 'let's not be unfriendly, Matthew. In a week or two. We'll set a table, and we'll be expecting you.'
With that, she turned away and walked back to where her husband waited, and together the elegant, handsome Mallorys strolled along the street in the direction of the waterfront.
Matthew determined that before this day was over he was going to have to take a long drink or two at the Trot, surrounded by laughter and lively fiddle music and people he counted as friends. That was the true treasure of a man, it seemed to him. Greathouse, too, if he wanted to come. Matthew would even buy him a meal; after all, he had thirteen pounds and a few shillings left to his name. Enough for a fireplace, and then some. But without all those gold pieces stuffed in the straw of his bed, he slept so much better.
He also determined that his mouth was going to remain shut about this-to Greathouse, Berry, and everyone else he knew-until he found out more.
Right now, though, he had nothing but a friendly invitation from a beautiful woman.
And God only knew where that might lead.
Matthew watched the blue parasol out of sight. Then he went back to Stone Street on a path as straight as an arrow.
The End
