The captain walked by her side, suiting his crisp, firm step to her languid gait, which was, nevertheless, very graceful in its rhythmic ease. Her voice was clear, gentle, and somewhat indifferent. On her face there was no other expression than the customary suggestion of pathetic apathy.
'I suppose,' she continued in a conventional manner, 'that he will not be home for some time.'
'No. There will be a big war before this question is settled, and Trist will be in the thick of it.'
With a slight inclination of the head she passed away from him and disappeared down the saloon stairs. The captain turned away and mounted the little brass ladder leading to the bridge with sailor-like deliberation.
'And, young woman,' he muttered to himself, 'you had better go down to your cabin and thank your God on your bended knees that Theodore Trist is not in England, nor likely to cross your path for many months to come.'
He looked round him with his habitual cheery keenness, and said a few words to the second officer who was on duty. Could he have seen Theodore Trist standing at that moment on the deck of a quick despatch-boat, racing through the Bosphorus and bound for England, he would not, perhaps, have laughed so heartily at a very mild joke made by his subordinate a few moments later.
'And yet,' he reflected as he made his way below in answer to the second dinner-bell—'and yet she does not seem to me to be the sort of woman for Trist—not good enough! Perhaps the gossips are wrong after all, and he does not care for her!'
CHAPTER II.
SISTERS.
More than one idler in Plymouth Station, one morning in October, turned his head to look again at two women walking side by side on the platform near to the London train. One, the taller of the two, was exceptionally beautiful, of a fair delicate type, with an almost perfect figure and a face fit for a model of the Madonna, so pure in outline was it, so innocent in its meaning. The younger woman was slightly shorter. She was clad in mourning, which contrasted somewhat crudely with the brighter costume of her companion. It was evident that these two were sisters; they walked in the same easy way, and especially notable was a certain intrepid carriage of the head, which I venture to believe is essentially peculiar to high-born Englishwomen.