"Willingly," he agreed. "There is enough contention, without belittling the most sacred thing in the world by needless bickering."
"And what is the most sacred thing in the world?" I asked.
"Good blood," he said quite straightforwardly. "But I must go below now. I have some papers to attend to. And I shall also attempt to induce the Chevalier de Veulle to preserve the amenities of life whilst we are restricted to such confined quarters."
"He shall not have to labor against my hostility," I promised as he departed.
Despite myself, I was taken with the man. His queer vanity, his unmistakable breeding, his ready wit, the assurance of power and self-sufficiency which radiated from him and explained, as I thought, his readiness to admit himself in the wrong, all these joined to inspire respect for his parts, if not admiration for his character.
During the rest of that day I made myself at home about the ship, talking with the seamen and their officers and watching vainly for the lady of the green cloak who had awakened me with her song. But she kept her cabin until the second afternoon, when we were sailing easily with a fair wind abeam. I found her then as I returned from a walk forward, standing with her hand on the poop-railing to steady her.
"I fear you are a poor sailor," I called to her.
She inclined her head for answer.
"Well, I have met your father," I said, coming to her side, "and I make no doubt he would present me were he here, so——"
"Sir," she said stiffly, "I have no desire for your company."