n.

"I, too," she said at last, "have had some telegrams. I have been
hesitating whether to show them to you or not. Perhaps you had better
see them."

She produced them and spread them out. The first was dated about the
same time as the one Lucille had received.

"Have seen S. with message from Lucille. Fear quite useless, as he
believes worst."

The second was a little longer.

"Have just heard S. has left for Liverpool, and has engaged berth in
Campania, sailing to-morrow. Break news to Lucille if you think well.
Have wired him begging return, and promising full explanation."

"If these," Lucille said calmly, "belonged to me I should treat them as
I have my own."

"What do you mean?"

"I should tear them up."

Lady Carey shrugged her shoulders with the air of one who finds further
argument hopeless.

"I shall have no more to say to you, Lucille, on this subject," she
said. "You are impossible. In a few days you will be forced to come
round to my point of view. I will wait till then. And in the meantime,
if you think I am going to tramp up and down those sloppy decks and gaze
at the sea you are very much mistaken. I am going to lie down like a
civilized being, and try and get a nap. You had better do the same."

Lucille laughed.

"For my part," she said, "I find any part of the steamer except the deck
intolerable. I am going now in search of some fresh air. Shall I send
your woman along?"

Lady Carey nodded, for just then the steamer gave a violent lurch, and
she was not feeling talkative. Lucille went outside and walked up and
down until the lights of Calais were in sight. All the time she felt
conscious of the observation of a small man clad in a huge mackintosh,
whose peaked cap completely obscured his features. As they were entering
the harbour she purposely stood by his side. He held on to the rail with
one hand and turned towards her.

"It has been quite a rough passage, has it not?" he remarked.

She nodded.

"I have crossed," she said, "when it has been much worse. I do not mind
so long as one may come on deck."

"Your friend," he remarked, "is perhaps not so good a sailor?"

"I believe," Lucille said, "that she suffers a great deal. I just looked
in at her, and she was certainly uncomfortable."

The little man gripped the rail and held on to his cap with the other
hand.

"You are going to Paris?" he asked.

Lucille nodded.

"Yes."

They were in smoother water now. He was able