"You'll pay for this, Armitage. This means another dose of the 'hospital' for you!"
"Go to hell!" cried the stoker's hoarse voice.
Grace and Mrs Stuart were breathless when they reached the deck, and they gave a sigh of relief when they were able once more to fill their lungs with fresh air.
"What a shocking place!" exclaimed Mrs. Stuart, examining her gown to see if she had sustained any damage.
"What a terrible man!" echoed Grace.
CHAPTER VI.
All day it had been uncomfortably hot and oppressive. The blazing sun looked like a molten disk in a copper-colored sky. The horizon was veiled in a sort of milky haze. The sea had quieted down to a dead calm. There was not so much as a ripple on the ocean's smooth, oil-like surface.
The big liner was still pounding her way toward Bombay. Another two days and the passengers would go ashore. Saturday afternoon had already arrived. Sailors were busy rigging canvas and putting up decorations for the dance which was to take place that evening. In a cozy corner of the promenade-deck an animated group, which included Grace, Mrs. Stuart, Mrs. Phelps, Count von Hatzfeld, and Professor Hanson, were taking tea.
"I don't see how we can dance in this heat! I think we'd better put off the ball, don't you, count?" exclaimed Grace, appealing to Mrs. Phelps' aristocratic admirer.