"Haven't an idea."
"No," she said. "And I don't suppose you care either. But I care. It matters a lot to me."
"Don't see how," threw in West.
He turned in his abrupt, disconcerting way, and gave her a piercing look. She averted her face instantly, but he had caught her unawares.
"Good heavens!" he said. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing," she returned, with a sort of choked vehemence. "There's nothing the matter with me. Only I'm feeling badly about—about what I asked you to do yesterday. I'd sooner have lost every dollar I have in the world, if I had only known, than—than have you do—what you did."
"Good heavens!" West said again.
He waited a little then, looking down at her as she leaned upon the rail with downcast face. At length, as she did not raise her head, he addressed her for the first time on his own initiative:
"Miss Mortimer!"
She made a slight movement to indicate that she was listening, but she remained gazing down into the green and white of the racing water.