But Captain Whyte, who receives him alone in his study, merely puts his newspaper aside with a let’s be quick about it expression, and Henry is obliged to launch directly into his proposal. Neither does Letitia seem to expect anything more than the mandatory question when he bows over her hand. “Yes,” she says with a giggle, and he slips the rustic ring on her finger. She holds her hand up to show how much too big it is. Captain Whyte, standing at the door, says, “There’s a goldsmith on the bridge who will size it for you,” and Henry promises to see to it. Then they sit all three in the morning room and the coals in the grate turn silently, flamelessly to ash, sending out the stuffy heat that induces sleep. Captain Whyte does indeed love to talk, and holds strong opinions about what he calls “the Guinea business” – he seems to relish the fact that the young scion of a plantation has fallen under his influence. The mismanagement of the trade disgusts him, how fearfully gutted Bristol commerce was by its collapse.
