“Yes. I have a companion to-day, you see.”
Helen was a little bewildered by this; but it was very pleasant to claim undisputed possession of a quiet retreat from which to watch others trying to find chairs. And, although Bower had a place reserved by her side, he did not sit down. He chatted for a few minutes on such eminently safe topics as the smooth sea, the superiority of turbine engines in the matter of steadiness, the advisability of lunching in the train after leaving Calais, rather than on board the ship, and soon betook himself aft, there to smoke and chat with some acquaintances whom he fell in with. Dover Castle was becoming a gray blur on the horizon when he spoke to Helen again.
“You look quite comfortable,” he said pleasantly, “and it is wise not to risk walking about if you are afraid of being ill.”
“I used to cross in bad weather without consequences,” she answered; “but I am older now, and am doubtful of experiments.”
“You were educated abroad, then?”
“Yes. I was three years in Brussels—three happy years.”
“Ah! Why qualify them? All your years are happy, I should imagine, if I may judge by appearances.”
“Well, if happiness can be defined as contentment, you are right; but I have had my sad periods too, Mr. Bower. I lost my mother when I was eighteen, and that was a blow under which I have never ceased to wince. Fortunately, I had to seek consolation in work. Added to good health, it makes for content.”
“You are quite a philosopher. Will you pardon my curiosity? I too lead the strenuous life. Now, I should like to have your definition of work. I am not questioning your capacity. My wonder is that you should mention it at all.”