Barbara nodded her agreement, glancing admiringly at Nona Davis. Nona was such an embodiment of refinement in manner and appearance that it would be difficult to treat her ungraciously.
CHAPTER VII
The Landing
“It is too horrible and too absurd!” said Barbara, a little brokenly.
The “Philadelphia” was now not far from Liverpool, proceeding with infinite caution through the submarine and mine-haunted waters. In great letters her name was painted on either side and never did the Stars and Stripes float more conspicuously overhead.
Dressed for the arrival in England, Barbara and Nona were standing side by side at a little distance from their fellow passengers. Mildred was seated with the newspaper correspondent and his mother, and Eugenia was talking with a good deal of interest to the English banker.
Nona did not answer the other girl’s speech immediately. She had frowned, started to say something and then evidently changed her mind. Both she and Barbara looked absurdly young and girlish for the work ahead of them. Moreover, in their different ways they were typically American, although their types were not the familiar ones known to most Europeans.
Barbara had the vivacity, the alertness and the “goaheadiveness” of the western girl. And in spite of being only a miniature physical edition of these traits of character she was not miniature in any other sense. Nona was more difficult to explain. She appeared so exactly what she had been brought up to be and yet she might surprise one by unexpected characteristics. She was almost too refined in her manner and aspect; it gave her a look of delicacy and diffidence. And in some ways Nona was shy. Nevertheless, there was a possibility that she might have the strength and mettle which one is supposed to find in a thoroughbred horse.
Finally she returned in her quiet drawl, which did not make her remark less emphatic:
“Don’t worry, Barbara dear, at least not more than you can help. It has been dreadful to have Lady Dorian a prisoner for these last few days, yet Captain Miller has been as polite as he could be under the circumstances. You see, as soon as the men discovered that the explosion on the ship had been intentional, there had to be a scapegoat. And you know Lady Dorian is mysterious. She won’t say what her real name is and she won’t surrender the odd iron box of papers that she is carrying with her. Besides, the accident did start either inside or near her stateroom. The small safe which must have contained the explosive was found not far away.”