“Not afraid of seasickness?”
“No. Why?”
“Because,” said Staff soberly, “I’ve been praying for a hurricane.”
She nodded again without speaking, her eyes alone questioning.
“Mrs. Thataker,” he pursued evenly, “confided to me at dinner that she is a very poor sailor indeed.”
Miss Searle laughed quietly. “You desire a punishment to fit the crime.”
“There are some crimes for which no adequate punishment has ever been contrived,” he returned, beginning to see his way, and at the same time beginning to think himself uncommonly clever.
“Oh!” said Miss Searle with a little laugh. “Now if you’re leading up to a second apology about that question of the bandbox, you needn’t, because I’ve forgiven you already.”
He glanced at her reproachfully. “You just naturally had to beat me to that, didn’t you?” he complained. “All the same, it was inexcusable of me.”
“Oh, no; I quite understood.”