“But that was before starting. I can’t conceive how you survived so many hours!” Wareham perceived that the incident of the island had not been offered to Mrs Martyn’s consideration. His heart congratulated itself. Hugh’s indignation rushed in pointedly.
“It’s true enough that Miss Dalrymple wanted something by the time she got here.” He muttered to Anne—“Much she had ready for you!”
“I think you were to be envied,” Mrs Ravenhill said. “The fjord was so beautiful that I hated being carried through it at a rush. And night here is little more than a quiet day.”
“Only too short,” agreed Anne. “The sun was upon us before it seemed possible.”
Wareham’s prescribed attitude of bystander did not preclude his sucking in these little, sweets of comfort with delight. But Mrs Martyn had not done with him.
“What were the charms of Gudvangen, Mr Wareham, which made you so oblivious?”
“Poor Gudvangen! If you speak of it in that tone, I shall believe it was you who bribed, the captain to start an hour earlier than his right time.”
Millie put in a fluttering word.
“It was a delightful place.”
“To Mr Wareham’s companions.” Malice lurked in Mrs Martyn’s sentences. Millie coloured, Anne sat indifferent, Hugh it was who answered.