He was thinking, no doubt, of a certain dark beauty,
whose caprices there was no explaining. As for me--well, I had
suddenly developed a sturdy preference for blue eyes.
* * * * *
I may as well confess at once that I was seasick. It came next
morning, ten minutes after I had left my berth--not a violent
sickness, but a faintness and giddiness that made me long for my
berth again. But Mr. Royce would not hear of it. He got me out on deck
and into my chair, with the fresh breeze blowing full in my face.
There was a long line of chairs drawn up there, and from the faces of
most of their occupants, I judged they were far more miserable than I.
At the end of an hour, thanks to this treatment, I felt almost well
again, and could devour with some appetite the luncheon which Mr.
Royce ordered for me.
After a while the doctor came down the line and looked at each of us,
stopping for a moment's chat. The more serious cases were below, and
all that any of us needed was a little encouragement.
"Won't you sit down a minute, doctor?" I asked, when he came to me,
and motioned to Mr. Royce's chair.
"Why, you're not sick!" he protested, laughing, but he dropped into
the vacant place.
"It wasn't about myself I wanted to talk," I said. "How's your other
patient--the one who came aboard last?"
His face sobered in an instant.
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