Maseden imagined that the New Yorker was merely referring to the incidents following the shipwreck.
“I don’t see exactly how life has been more of a sizzle for me than for you and the girls,” he said.
“Ah, come off it, Alec!” laughed the other. “You know better than that. But I guess I’ll have to hand the explanation on a tray. Madge and Nina have told the facts about your wedding. Gosh! What a jolt it must have given you to find your wife on board the Southern Cross!”
“You know?” gasped Maseden.
“Yep. They up and told me while you were gathering fire-wood. Nina said she had promised you to put the full hand on the table at the first opportunity. She’s done it.”
“Nina! Didn’t Madge say anything?”
“You bet your life. She was tickled to death. It’s been worrying her no end.”
“May I ask—”
“No, you mayn’t. It was square of you, Alec, to insist that I should come in on the inside track. Of course, I wasn’t born and bred in little old New York for nothing, and I had my doubts a while back. One day, too, you were within an ace of blurting out the whole yarn. I remember it well. I’m glad now you didn’t. It would have made things kind of difficult for me. But both girls are a bit shy where you’re concerned. You don’t blame ’em, do you?”
Maseden was absolutely bewildered. Sturgess was an irresponsible, devil-may-care fellow in many respects, but these effervescent qualities cloaked a fine sensibility, and it was astounding to find him treating the matter so lightly.