“Come and have some grub,” he said cheerfully. “I was about as sure as you were. You needn’t worry about that, old sport. There’s so little time. Come and sit down; there’s a good girl. And presently I’ll tell you all about it.” He looked so charming as he spoke that Jenny obediently smiled in return, and the light came rushing into her eyes, chasing away the shadows, so that she felt for that time immeasurably happy and unsuspicious. She sat down at the laden table, smiling again at the marvels which it carried.
“My word, what a feast!” she said helplessly. “Talk about the Ritz!”
Keith busied himself with the dishes. The softly glowing cabin threw over Jenny its spell; the comfort, the faint slow rocking of the yacht, the sense of enclosed solitude, lulled her. Every small detail of ease, which might have made her nervous, merged with the others in a marvellous contentment because she was with Keith, cut off from the world, happy and at peace. If she sighed, it was because her heart was full. But she had forgotten the rest of the evening, her shabbiness, every care that troubled her normal days. She had cast these things off for the time and was in a glow of pleasure. She smiled at Keith with a sudden mischievousness. They both smiled, without guilt, and without guile, like two children at a reconciliation.
vi
“Soup?” said Keith, and laid before her a steaming plate. “All done by kindness.”
“Have you been cooking?” Some impulse made Jenny motherly. It seemed a strange reversal of the true order that he should cook for her. “It’s like The White Cat to have it....”
“It’s a secret,” Keith laughed. “Tell you later. Fire away!” He tasted the soup, while Jenny looked at five little letter biscuits in her own plate. She spelt them out E T K I H—KEITH. He watched her, enjoying the spectacle of the naove mind in action as the light darted into her face. “I’ve got JENNY,” he said, embarrassed. She craned, and read the letters with open eyes of marvel. They both beamed afresh at the primitive fancy.
“How did you do it?” Jenny asked inquisitively. “But it’s nice.” They supped the soup. Followed, whitebait: thousands of little fish.... Jenny hardly liked to crunch them. Keith whipped away the plates, and dived back into the cabin with a huge pie that made her gasp. “My gracious!” said Jenny. “I can never eat it!”
“Not all of it,” Keith admitted. “Just a bit, eh?” He carved.
“Oh, thank goodness it’s not stew and bread and butter pudding!” cried Jenny, as the first mouthful of the pie made her shut her eyes tightly. “It’s like heaven!”