But I saw that quiet and
sea air were doing their work well with my companion, and that he was
steadily regaining his normal health. So I felt more and more at
liberty to devote myself to Miss Kemball--in such moments as she would
permit me--and I found her fascination increasing in a ratio quite
geometrical. Martigny was still abed, and, so the ship's doctor told
me, was improving very slowly.
It was Tuesday evening that Mrs. Kemball and her daughter joined us on
the promenade, and weary, at last, of Strauss waltzes and Sousa
marches, we sauntered away toward the bow of the boat, where the noise
from the orchestra could reach us only in far-away snatches. We found
a seat in the shadow of the wheel-house, and sat for a long time
talking of many things, watching the moonlight across the water. At
last we arose to return, and Royce and Mrs. Kemball started on ahead,
after a habit they had fallen into, which, now I think of it, I am
sure was our junior's doing.
"Two more days, and we'll be at Havre," I said. "I'll be very sorry,
Miss Kemball."
"Sorry? I'd never have suspected you of such a fondness for the
ocean!"
"Oh, it's not the ocean!" I protested, and--what with the moonlight
and the soft night and the opportunity--"the time and the place and
the loved one, all together"--would have uttered I know not what
folly, had she not sprung suddenly forward with a sharp cry of alarm.
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