wall so cunningly that no trace was left of where it
had been, a tiny library of slim volumes uniformly bound in amber
leather, a miracle of binding, the work of Grossart of Tours, a map-rack
containing large scale maps of the world, and a tell-tale compass
shewing the course of the _Gaston de Paris_ to whomever cared to read
it. A long mirror let into the bulkhead aft increased the apparent size
of the place. A bath-room and dressing-room lay forward.

Having closed the door she stood for a moment glancing at her reflection
in the mirror. The picture seemed to fascinate her as though it were the
reflection of some stranger. Then, turning from the mirror, she sat down
for a moment on the couch by the door.

She felt disturbed. The words of Madame de Warens had angered her,
producing the effect of a false accusation to which one is too proud to
reply, but the momentary anger had passed, giving place to a craving for
freedom and fresh air. The atmosphere of the state-room felt stifling,
she would go on deck. Then she remembered that she was in a thin evening
dress and that she would have to change.

The two women shared a maid, and she was in the act of stretching out
her hand to the electric bell by the couch to summon the maid, when the
craving to get on deck without delay became so strong that she rose,
went into the dressing-room and, without assistance, changed her gown
for a tweed coat and skirt and her thin evening shoes for a pair of
serviceable boots. Then she slipped on her oilskin and sou'wester and
coming back into the state-room caught a momentary glimpse of herself in
the mirror, a strange contrast to the elegant and black-gowned figure
that had glanced at its reflection only ten minutes before.

She was coming up the saloon companion-way when the engines, easily
heard from here, suddenly began a thunderous pow-wow; the ship lurched
forward, and from the blackness of the open hatch above came a voice
like the sudden clamour of sea-gulls. Then she was flung backwards and
stretched, half-stunned, on the mat at the companion-way foot.

For a moment she did not know in the least what had happened. She
fancied she had slipped and fallen, then, as she scrambled on to her
hands and knees, someone passed her, nearly treading on her, and rushed
up the companion-way to the deck. It was the chief steward. Rising and
holding on to the rail she followed him.

The deck was aslant, and in the windy blackness of the n