When they could no longer recognise friendly faces to wave to, they turned and looked at each other. Catalepsy disappeared from Carson's face—it grew boyish, ardent, gay.
"'The Lord is debonair,
Let sinners not despair,'"
said he, and they smiled into each other's eyes.
And so their ship swept out to sea.
Ashore, one or two acrid things were said. In a little detached group, of which Mrs. Gruyère, Mrs. Lace, and Cora de Grey were the central figures, Brookfield thought it interesting to say:
"There's a rumour that she's as wicked as her books—if so, Carson is not to be envied."
Cora de Grey, who was sometimes also called Cobra de Grey, bit into him swiftly:
"If she's wicked, she's clever beyond the cleverness of any woman, for none of her men friends have ever given her away."
"Her men friends—that's a new story!" retorted the surprised Brookfield.