Starboard was rigged up for cricket, and the ship's officers and some of the passengers played the game until the first gong. Elsa grumbled to Martha. There was little enough space to walk in as it was without the men taking over the whole side of the ship and cheating her out of a glorious sunset. Martha grew troubled and perplexed. If there was one phase of character unknown to her in Elsa it was irritability; and here she was, finding fault like any ordinary tourist.
"Where is Mr. Warrington?"
"I don't know. I haven't seen him since yesterday." Elsa dropped her book petulantly. "I am weary of these namby-pamby stories."
"Why, I thought you admired that author."
"Not to-day at any rate. Silly twaddle."
Martha's eyes had a hopeless look in them as she asked: "Elsa, what is the matter?"
"I don't know, Martha. I believe I should like to lose my temper utterly. It might be a great relief."
"It's the climate."
"It may be. But it's my belief I'm irritable because I do not know my own mind. I hate the stuffy stateroom, the food, the captain."
"The captain?"