"I would prefer you to name the price," I replied, "I do not think we shall quarrel on that score."
"When do you wish me to leave the city?" was her question.
"I have already engaged berths in the 'Madiana,' of the Quebec SS. Line, which will leave her dock on the North River, Jan. 12th next."
"Berths? You have engaged two?"
"It was necessary to secure them. I have determined that I will not go alone. The list is filling up and I had to put down the names."
"What names?" she asked. "You can hardly have given them mine."
I was getting more and more at my ease. I said I had registered for "self and friend," with the understanding that the "friend" would be a lady.
"Ah!" she said. "Now, how do you intend that I shall travel—if it is decided that I am to go?"
She did not redden as she asked the question, and I do not know why I did.
"As my cousin," I answered. "It is my belief, Miss May," I added, "that you will find this journey very charming, if you go about it right. To be registered simply as my secretary, which will come as near as anything to the fact, or not to be given any title at all, might arouse silly gossip among the other passengers. A relationship of the kind I suggest will still idle tongues and make your position more agreeable."