He was smoking, and in the lamplight his smooth, queer face looked like a brown apple that had begun to shrivel--just begun, for O'Shea was not old, and only a little wrinkled.
His wife came often into the room, and stood looking with interest at Caius.

She was a fair woman, with a broad tranquil face and much light hair that was brushed smoothly.
Caius talked of the weather, for the snow was falling.

Then, after awhile: "By the way, O'Shea, _who_ is Madame Le Maitre ?" The other had not spoken for a long time; now he took his clay pipe out of his mouth, and answered promptly: "An angel from heaven." "Ah, yes; that, of course." Caius stroked his moustache with the action habitual to drawing-room gallantry; then, instead of persisting, he formed his question a little differently: "Who is Mr.Le Maitre ?" "Sea-captain," said O'Shea.
"Oh! then _where_ is he ?" "Don't know." "Isn't that rather strange, that his wife should be here, and that you should not know where the husband is ?" "I can't see the ships on the other side of the world." "Where did he go to ?" "Well, when he last sailed"-- deliberately--"he went to Newcastle.

His ship is what they call a tramp; it don't belong to any loine.

So at Newcastle she was hired to go to Africy.