“I am very sorry I promised Mr. Harwood,” said the lady; “if going ashore would do all of this it would certainly be better for Daireen to remain aboard. But they will be taking in coals here,” she added, as the sudden thought struck her.
“She can shut herself in her cabin and neither see nor hear anything offensive. Who but a newspaper man would think of suggesting to cultured people the possibility of enjoyment in a party?”
But the newspaper man had strolled up to the place beside Daireen, which the aesthetic man had vacated. He knew something of the art of strategical defence, this newspaper man, and he was well aware that as he had got the promise of the major's wife, all the arguments that might be advanced by any one else would not cause him to be defrauded of the happiness of being by this girl's side in one of the loveliest spots of the world.
“I will find out what Daireen thinks,” said Mrs. Crawford, in reply to Mr. Glaston; and just then she turned and saw the newspaper man beside the girl.
“Never mind him,” said Mr. Glaston; “tell the poor child that it is impossible for her to go.”
“I really cannot break my promise,” replied the lady. “We must be resigned, it will only be for a few hours.”
“This is the saddest thing I ever knew,” said Mr. Glaston. “She will lose all the ideas she was getting—all through being of a party. Good heavens, a party!”
Mrs. Crawford could see that Mr. Glaston was annoyed at the presence of Harwood by the side of the girl, and she smiled, for she was too old a tactician not to be well aware of the value of a skeleton enemy.
“How kind of you to say you would not mind my going ashore,” said Daireen, walking up to her. “We shall enjoy ourselves I am sure, and Mr. Harwood knows every spot to take us to. I was afraid that Mr. Glaston might be talking to you as he was to me.”
“Yes, he spoke to me, but of course, my dear, if you think you would like to go ashore I shall not say anything but that I will be happy to take care of you.”