"He 's a nice-looking boy," whispered Sara. "But I wonder,—he does n't seem altogether to approve."
Anne, who had been studying the officer, smiled easily.
"That isn't it; he's embarrassed. For heaven's sake, Sara, don't try to make me feel de trop at this stage."
The young man was embarrassed; Anne had diagnosed correctly. And it was with great relief that he turned them over to Armitage, who led them to a hatch and thence down a straight iron ladder to the wardroom. Anne watched the precise steward adjusting a centrepiece of flowers upon the mess table and then glanced around the apartment, which was lined with rifles, cutlasses, and revolvers in holsters.
"How interesting, Mr. Armitage," she said. "Do you recall the last time we were in a cabin together?" smiling. "How absurd it was!"
"Wasn't it," laughed Armitage. He left the wardroom and returned in a few minutes with two officers' long, blue overcoats and caps.
"These are your disguises. I 'll send an orderly down to take you up to the bridge when we get well under way—"
"Do we really have to wear these?" Sara viewed the overcoats with mock concern.
"Must," laughed Armitage. "It is going to be cold and it looks like rain. I 'd tuck my hair up under the caps as much as possible if I were you. Damp salt air is bad for hair."
"You mean you wish us to look like men," asserted Sara.