Evelyn could sleep that second night peacefully as a child; but not Jean. She came on deck before breakfast, looking haggard. The wind had changed and gone down; and the sea had grown more still, heaving in sleepy billows, like the tired sighs of a child after a fit of passion.
"How soon do we get in? The engines are stopping again," Jean said, a despairing under-tone audible.
Jem showed a small steamer near at hand. "A tug at last! We shall be all right now. Our little friend will tow us to Newhaven."
"I thought we were to land somewhere else."
"So it was said yesterday; but we go to Newhaven, after all. I am glad for your sake. If a telegram has arrived, it will be sent there to meet us."
"I have had a lesson, at all events, not to be wilful again," said Jean. "If I had not been so bent on getting off—"
"It is nearly over now, I hope. Have you had anything to eat?"
"No. Why won't you let me blame myself?"
"So you shall, if it is a relief. But there is another side to the question. I shall be thankful all my life that we did come."
"By this boat?"