"Don't talk to me, sir," he roared, hobbling off across the beach to
his dressing tent. "I will not listen to you. I will have nothing to
do with you. I consider you impudent, sir."
"I am sure it was unintentional, Mr. Derrick."
"Isch!" he said--being the first occasion and the last on which I ever
heard that remarkable word proceed from the mouth of man.
And he vanished into his tent, while I, wading in once more, swam back
to the Cob and put on my clothes.
And so home, as Pepys would have said, to breakfast, feeling
depressed.