“I overslept myself!” she explained cheerfully.
He did not realize what that meant. For years and years Miss Smith had got up at seven o’clock. She had needed no alarm clock, for her sense of duty had never failed to arouse her; and now the sense of duty had slumbered. She was a little shocked at herself, and just a little proud. Coming down to breakfast at half past nine!
“You’ve finished, haven’t you?” she said.
But she knew very well that he would wait with her, and so he did.
“I think you’ll like Bermuda,” he said. “It’s a pretty place. I have an aunt living there, you know. I hope you’ll let me bring her to call on you.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, but, you see, I shan’t be there,” said Miss Smith. “I’m going right back on this ship.”
“But the ship doesn’t sail again till Saturday, you know.”
“Saturday!” cried Miss Smith. “Doesn’t sail till Saturday!”
“No. At this time of the year there’s only one sailing a week.”
The breakfast had come. Herbert stood by, benevolently watching, but Miss Smith could not eat. She swallowed a cup of coffee and rose.