"Oh, yes; I care for a great many things, I am glad to say—books, and pictures, and people. If I cannot get some excitement out of one, I do out of another; life is so curious, so full of problems. Who told you about me? If you listen to all you hear—"
"It was Mr. Ferrars—evidently a very true friend—who spoke of you."
"Oh! poor Quintin Ferrars! Yes, he is a good friend."
"Why do you say 'poor'?"
"Because he has not had a happy life."
"Partly his own fault, I should think. He strikes me as not having a happy temperament."
"Is that his own fault?" asked Mrs. Courtly, smiling. "He has not a happy temperament, it is true. I have always told him that he does not extract the enjoyment he might out of life—though it struck me he was doing so successfully this morning! But, poor fellow! he has been heavily handicapped; circumstances have been against him, they have embittered everything."
Grace was dying to ask what those circumstances were, but something restrained her. Her acquaintance with Mrs. Courtly was but slight; it would hardly be seemly for Grace to press for information about Mrs. Courtly's friend which that lady thought fit to conceal. Presently Mrs. Courtly said,
"Will you come and have tea in my cabin at five o'clock? I have a deck cabin; it can hold half a dozen people—Mrs. Van Winkle, and your brother, and Quintin Ferrars, and one other man; shall I ask Jem Gunning?"
"Not for me, please; I have enough of him at three meals every day. Do you like him?"