The situation was relieved, or, at least, ended, by the opening of the door. The parlour-maid announced, "Major Merriam, miss!"
The Major came in briskly. A large funnel-shaped parcel of white paper proclaimed a bouquet of flowers. Bob, behind the door, was not within the Major's immediate range of vision.
"Well, Miss Wilson, are you all ready for the voyage? I've brought you a few flowers for your cabin."
"Oh, thank you so much. May I—er—introduce you to my friend, Mr. Purnett? Mr. Purnett—Major Merriam." The Major bowed politely; Bob rather stiffly.
"I was just off," he said, coming back towards Winnie, with hat and gloves in his left hand. He was wondering 'who the devil that chap is'—and 'what was that about a voyage and a cabin.'
"Yes, we're actually nearly ready, women though we are! Emily's so splendid at it! Must you go, Bob? It'll be some time before we meet again. We're off to Madeira to-morrow morning, and then on to Italy—to the Lakes." She smiled on Bob. "But I'm afraid we shan't get to Monte Carlo!"
"I didn't know you were—were going away."
"I was just going to tell you when Major Merriam came in. We're all looking forward to it; aren't we, Major? Major Merriam and his father are coming with us as far as Madeira."
"The ladies are good enough to accept our escort and our company for two or three weeks," said Bertie Merriam. He thought the other fellow looked rather sulky.
"Going to be away long?" Bob jerked out the inquiry.