"How good-natured he seems!" she thought. "He is really my friend, and yet I cannot quite like him."
So she went to bed thoroughly unhappy, dissatisfied with herself for acting the flirt and dissatisfied with Leicester for being one.
Although the captain was humming so carelessly, he was not idle.
No sooner did the sound of Violet's closing door greet his ear than he ceased the humming and drew his chair to his bureau.
He had prepared his pens, ink, etc., on the table; there was every sign of a hard night's work.
He drew from the bureau his strange purchases, the sheet of parchment and the flour dredger, spreading the parchment upon the desk.
It looked very yellow and old, and anything but a nice material for a document.
But for the captain's purpose it was apparently not at all too passé, for he drew from his pocket a small bottle of cold coffee, and with a paint brush carefully washed the surface of the parchment on both sides.
Then he held it near the candle to dry, and after a close scrutiny nodded with satisfaction.
The ink next underwent manipulation.