I sat in a long-armed wicker chair, with my hat off and my toes dangling, and had a delightful chat with my new acquaintance, undisturbed by any scruples as to the propriety of so doing. I knew (without thinking of it until long afterwards) that he was not a man to take liberties, or in any way to “forget his place;” and I could have no shadow of uneasiness, at this stage of our acquaintance, as to what it might develop into if it were followed up. Indeed, at this period of my career, I had not begun to reflect upon these matters—notwithstanding my experiences with respect to the gentleman from Queensland who had taught me chess. It had not yet occurred to me to dream of likening myself, even in the vaguest and most distant way, to a flirt, or to suppose for a moment that anybody else would presume to do so.
I told my new friend, in the frankest manner, where I had come from, and where I was going to, and what I hoped to do and see when I got there. I pointed out my father and mother from amongst the passengers—daddy hotly discussing politics with another Australian passenger—mother sitting with the invalid mother of my little girls, and reading aloud to her about lady helps; and, when I found that he was an Englishman, and had only been absent from his country for a few months, I induced him to enter into the fullest particulars as to what the life I looked forward to would probably have for me in the way of sight-seeing and general enjoyment. He was giving me a charming description of the “march-past” of the famous teams of the coaching club, and I was listening eagerly, unconscious of the flight of time, when I suddenly caught sight of mother looking at me from over the top of her book, with a grave intentness that I found very disconcerting. As soon as I could I rose from my chair and went over to her, with my little companions holding fast to either hand.
“Who is that gentleman, Kitty?” she asked quietly, looking away to where he now stood, with his arms folded on the railing, gazing out to sea. I was sorry she could only see a commonplace dark-blue back and legs, and nothing of the refinement of his pleasant face.
“I don’t know, mother,” I replied.
“You don’t know!” she echoed in astonishment, “Do you mean your father is not acquainted with him?”
“I don’t think so. No, I know he is not, for I showed him which was daddy just now.”
“Then who introduced him to you, dear?”
“Nobody.”
“Don’t you know his name?”
“No,” I murmured shamefacedly, beginning to see the drift of her questions.