Going below again she saw Knollys looking about eagerly.
"Oh, there you are, miss. Mr. Fame desired me to give you this. He was considerably hurried."
She took it with a word of thanks—a little note, folded three cornerwise.
"I'm more sorry than I can say," she read. "The port doctor was an old St. Crispin's man. He noticed me on deck and spoke. He and I were great pals at the hospital, and he asked me to go ashore with him. He remembered how keen I was on gynecology, and has a queer case he'd like me to look at. It's his wife as a matter of fact. I made all sorts of excuses, but he seemed so hurt I had to give way. I know this will disappoint you horribly, but it seems unavoidable. I'll cut away as soon as I can, and we'll still go to Pompeii. After all, I hear we don't sail till one o'clock, so there'll be time—we'll come back in the moonlight. Give my love to Jimmy and the schoolmaster.—L.F."
To her amazement she felt tears begin to prick her eyelids. She blinked fiercely.
"Well, of all the babies! Did it cry because it was wanting to go out, then?" she cried indignantly, and stood watching the coal bunkers being opened. But she could not see much; she was thinking of Louis.
"You'll get filthy here!" said the third officer behind her, "and most uncomfortable. I should advise you to go ashore."
"I can't. I'm waiting for someone," she explained.
"Then I'd go up on the boat deck. You've no idea how abominable it gets down here. Coaling should be prohibited by Act of Parliament."
"Which is the boat-deck?" she asked, glad that her voice was sensible again. He pointed, and she turned away.