“He is not married,” said Harry.
“No? Well he is to be, I suppose. I saw him walking the other day with a young lady. Indeed, I have often seen them together, and I thought—”
“It was my sister, I presume,” said Harry.
“Perhaps so. She was rather tall, with a pale, grave face—but pretty—quite beautiful indeed.”
“It was Graeme, I daresay. I don’t know whether other people think her beautiful or not.”
Harry did not say it, but he was thinking that his sister seemed beautiful to them all at home, and his dark eyes took the tender look of Graeme’s own as he thought. It vanished quickly as a heavy hand was laid on his shoulder, and he turned to meet the look of the new partner.
“You don’t mean that you are the Harry Elliott that sailed with me in the ‘Steadfast,’ ten years ago.”
“Yes, I am Harry Elliott, and I crossed the sea in the ‘Steadfast’ ten years ago. I knew you at the first glance, Mr Ruthven.”
“I never should have known you in the least,” said Mr Ruthven. “Why, you were quite a little fellow, and now you can nearly look down on me.”
“I never thought of that,” said Harry, looking foolish.