He was about to leave her, but he had not taken two steps before he turned, with all the anger and the passion softened in his eyes, and said, putting his hand out towards yet not to touch her, "Good-bye—for the last time." And then the look was such as might be turned upon a forgiven executioner.
"Good-night," she replied, and she did not look into his eyes, but out to sea. Her eyes remained fixed upon its furtive gloom. She too was furtive and gloomy at this moment. They were both sleek, silent, and remorseless. There was a slight rustle to her dress as she changed her position. It was in grim keeping with the pitiless rustle of the sea.
And so they parted. I saw him move on towards the companion-way, and though I felt instinctively that all had gone ill with him, I was surprised to see how erect he walked. After a minute I approached her. She heard me coming, and presently turned to me with a curious smile. "Who is Mr. Charles Boyd?" she asked. "I did not pierce his disguise. I could not tell whether I had met him on board before. Have I? But my impression is that I had not seen him on the ship."
"No, you had not seen him," I replied. "He had a fancy to travel, until yesterday, with the second-class passengers. Now he has a first-class cabin—in his proper place, in fact."
"You think so—in his proper place?" The suggestion was not pleasant.
"Assuredly. Why do you speak in that way?" was my indignant reply.
She took my arm as we moved on. "Because he was slightly rude to me."
I grew bold, and determined to bring her to some sort of reckoning.
"How rude were you to him?"
"Not rude at all. It is not worth while being so—to anybody," was her chilly answer.