Jocelyn laughed gently. She had finished her toilet, and sat looking up at him with her head a little on one side, and her feet drawn under her skirts. Nielsen moved a step towards her, and his brown eyes glowed.
“Do you know you are quite charrming! May I not—“—he bent his head to her hand.
“Please don’t!” she said impatiently.
She had lately found it difficult to take the sentimental remarks of the enamoured Swede as a matter of course.
“Forgive me,” said Nielsen humbly, “you are so beautiful, you see!”
“I would rather you didn’t talk like that, please,” said Jocelyn.
She rose and held out her hand to him frankly; Nielsen took it in his own, letting it go with a deep sigh.
Jocelyn restrained an inclination to laugh.
“What is that ship?” she asked, as they made their way towards the others. Nielsen screwed his eyeglass into his eye.
“A ‘messageries’ for China and the Indies; she will call at Genoa.”