There was no word from the stateroom.
“You're an unprejudiced party,” insisted the skipper. “You have good judgment. Now what?”
“Who is that, in there?” demanded Bradish.
“Why should this person, whoever he is, have any-thing to say about my affairs?” asked the girl.
“Because I'm asking him to say!” yelped the skipper, showing anger. “I'm running this! Don't try to tell me my own business!” He walked toward the door. “Speak up, mate!”
“It's an insult to me—asking strangers about my private affairs!” The protest of the girl was a furious outburst.
“I resent it, captain! Most bitterly resent it,” stated Bradish.
The old skipper walked back toward them. “Resent it as much as you condemned like, sir! You're here asking favors of me. I want to do what is right for all concerned. You ought to be married—I admit that. But what sort of a position does it leave me in? Are you going to tell me this girl's name?”
“I'm Alma Marston!” She volleyed the name at him with hysterical violence, but he did not seem to be impressed. “I am Julius Marston's daughter!”
The skipper looked her up and down.