He started violently. “What!” he exclaimed. “Well, well, we must see about that.”
“It’s no good seeing about it, father,” she corrected him, feeling an hysterical desire to laugh; “he’s dead.”
“The poor boy, the poor boy!” he murmured. “Such a capital fellow.”
“It was just after he had proposed to me that he fell overboard,” she told him.
“Dear me, dear me!” he sighed. “And you had accepted him? I suppose the shock.... How very, very sad!—He just fell backwards.”
Awkwardly, but with great tenderness, he put his arm about her. “You must forget all about it,” he whispered. “You must have a good time.”
“It was so ghastly,” she said. “You see, when he asked me to be his wife, I didn’t say ‘yes.’”
“Of course not, of course not,” he murmured. “Very proper, I’m sure.”
“But he thought I was only playing with him,” she faltered. “He was so angry, so hurt. And then the paddle-wheel started with a jerk, and he overbalanced.”
“Ah, my dear,” he answered, “the course of true love never runs smoothly. An ancient saw, but a very true one! But you are young: you will soon get over it. You must throw yourself into your duties as hostess at the Residency; and, in the first place, I want you to help me in a little scheme I have in mind.”