No, these had not been visited.
“Then where on earth did you go?”
“The Museo Borbon—something or other. We—uh——” A perfect imitation of a young woman falling asleep in the middle of a sentence.
“Museo Borbonico? Why, my child, that’s the old name for the National Museum. I have remembered some of the things Mr. Freneau tried to put into my head to-day. Did you see the bronzes, and the head of Cicero, made probably from life?”
No answer from the berth.
“Are you asleep, Geraldine?”
“Uh-huh.”
“H-m,” suspiciously. “Talking in your sleep, eh? Well, I’ll not bore you further. That’s what’s making you fat, so much sleep.” She looked about the room. “You must stop eating chocolates, too. I believe they are a sort of narcotic, if the truth were known. I notice that fat, sleepy girls are pigs on chocolates. Well, good-night. You can tell me about your trip to-morrow. I’ll take a peep at Walter before I retire to see if the absent treatment is working as usual. I have a feeling that if he had not gone straight to bed I should sense it somehow. Good-night.”
There was no response from Geraldine, so Mrs. Wells put out the light, fixed the catch on the lock and slipped quietly into the corridor.
Walter’s room was on the other side of the boat. Geraldine gave her mother time to get to the end of the corridor before she arose, snapped on the light and donned shoes and a kimono and twisted her plaited hair into a shape fit for public view. Then she sat on the edge of the berth and pondered. To-morrow early she would——