"Well, I can't stay," he said; "I mustn't lose the train! Now, don't feel uncomfortable, Bessie; Lord bless you, I shall soon be all right—sea-sickness is good for my disease, you know," and Tom tried to laugh, but it was a dismal failure compared with his former light-heartedness.
Elizabeth saw that he was restless to get once more into Elsie's presence, painful as the interview must be to him, so she smoothed his hair, straightened his necktie and accompanied him downstairs.
"Oh, you dear, delightful Tom Fuller!" cried Mrs. Harrington, pleased to see any man arrive, for Elsie had carried off both her victims into the window-seat, and was making them dizzy with her smiles and brilliant nonsense.
"I—I'm delighted to see you," cried Tom, frantically, thrusting his hat in her face, in a wild delusion that he was offering his hand, for he was so upset by the sight of Elsie that he felt as if rapidly going up in an unmanageable balloon.
"I'll just say good-bye at the same time," pursued Tom; "for I'm rather in a hurry, thank you."
"Why, you're not going away directly!" cried the widow. "Oh, you must stay and entertain me. Elsie has left me quite desolate."
"Thank you; it's of no importance; I'm not quite on my sea legs yet," gasped Tom, growing so dizzy that he was possessed of a mad idea he was already on shipboard.
"Why, you look quite white and ill," said the widow.
"Yes; oh, not any, thank you," cried Tom, stepping on the widow's dress, dancing off it and dealing Elizabeth a blow with his hat.
Mrs. Mellen felt herself grow sick at heart; she glanced at Elsie; the girl was laughing gaily, and chatting away with young Hawkins, regardless of Tom's presence. North stood by, looking at her with his deep, earnest eyes, as if searching her character in all its shallow depths. Elizabeth felt bitterly indignant, and exclaimed—