His tone was matter-of-course, yet masterful. At the very beginning of her fourth solitary day, Ethel admitted to herself that it was good to have some one take possession of her in this summary fashion.
"Is Miss Arthur still unhappy?" he asked, as he swung into step at her side.
"Yes. She has taken to her hymnal, this morning, in search of consolation. I tried to coax her to get up and go ashore; but she said there was no use in experiencing the same woe twice."
"I am afraid I do not quite catch the lady's line of argument," Weldon remarked doubtfully.
The girl laughed. Then she decorously checked her laugh and endeavored to turn sympathetic once more.
"She means to make one prolonged illness. Else she will only recover in order to fall ill again." "Oh." Weldon's tone was still blank. "And shall you go ashore?"
She shook her head.
"I am sorry. You would find any amount to see."
"I am sorry, too," she said frankly. "Still, I don't see how I can, without Miss Arthur."
His hands in his pockets, Weldon took a dozen steps in doubtful silence.