e deuce of a hurry,
he said again; he had got to meet a friend but had missed her in the
crowd.

"I came off in the deuce of a hurry," he said. He was chafing bitterly
at this enforced delay; each moment was so precious.

Marie touched her father's arm.

"We are only keeping Mr. Mellowes, Daddy...." Something in her voice
made Micky's eyes smart. It was hard luck that for the second time he
was forced to humiliate her. He stammered out incoherently that he
hoped they would forgive him, but he was in such a deuce of a
hurry.... He went off abruptly.

Everybody was off the train now, and many people were already on the
boat. Micky remembered that he had no ticket; he entered into a hot
argument with an official, who listened to him skeptically, and took
as long as possible to make out the ticket; even when Micky had paid
he still looked suspicious.

The gangway was still down; Micky went on board and stood as close to
it as he could, scanning the face of each passer.

Esther was not amongst them.

"Stand away there--stand away...."

Micky was pushed aside, and a couple of brawny seamen hauled the
gangway on to the harbour. The gap of green water was widening slowly
between the pier and the ship's side. Micky felt as if he were being
exiled. Supposing she was not on the boat?

He turned away and searched the crowded deck. The boat was full, and
most of the people were women, but there was nobody who looked in the
very least like Esther.

She would be wearing the fur coat, he was sure--the coat he had given
her!

One or two people stared at him curiously. Once he came across Marie
and her father on the leeward side of the boat. For decency's sake he
had to stop. He made an inane remark on the weather and said he
thought they were going to have a smooth crossing.

Marie's brown eyes lifted to his.

"You haven't met your friend?" she said quietly.

Micky had a horrible conviction that she had not believed that he had
any one to meet. He coloured in confusion as he answered--

"No--no. I'm sorry to say I haven't."

She moved away leaving him with her father. The old man slipped a hand
through Micky's arm.

"Don't notice her, my boy; women are queer cattle--and I expect she's
a little sore with you still."

Micky wished it was possible to jump overboard. He found the old man's
friendliness more insufferable than the look of reproach in Marie's
eyes. As soon as he could he got away; he went down the comp