Dick Faversham looked at her like a man entranced. In his interest in her he forgot the other occupants of the room, forgot the discussion, forgot everything. The yearning solicitude in the woman's eyes, the infinite pity on her face, chained him and drove all other thoughts away.
"I say, Faversham."
He came to himself at the mention of his name and turned to the speaker.
"Are you good for a stroll on deck for half an hour before turning in?"
It was the Count who spoke, and Dick noticed that nearly all the occupants of the room seemed on the point of leaving.
"Thank you," he replied, "but I think I'll turn in."
He looked again towards the door where he had seen the woman, but she was gone.
"By the way," and he touched the sleeve of a man's coat as he spoke, "who was that woman?"
"What woman?"
"The woman standing by the door."