“You must go below and change those wet clothes,” he said, peremptorily lifting her inside the door, “and don’t wear house slippers on deck again.”
She discontentedly made her way to her room. The interview had not been satisfactory. “He was dreadfully cross,” she muttered; “and he can look as disagreeable with one eye as most people can with two.”
CHAPTER XII.
AN UNSATISFACTORY INTERVIEW.
She hurried through her second toilet in order that she might go and see Miss Marsden before the breakfast-bell rang. On her way to her a few minutes later, she met Mr. Delessert, who was coming from his room. His attire was, as usual, irreproachably elegant. There was not a wrinkle in the dark blue clothes that fitted so admirably his straight, well-proportioned figure. The knot in his necktie was perfection itself; and his carefully brushed hair and smooth moustache threw her recent attempts at hair-brushing quite into the shade.
In the midst of her newly conceived horror of the man, she wondered whether he would dare to speak to her. Not he; with a complete control over his features, he absolutely looked through her blushing, indignant face to the wall behind. Judging by his expressionless countenance there was not a living creature near him.
“The coward,” she angrily reflected. “His spirit is as base as his face is fair.” Then she turned her back on his retreating form, and pursued her way to Miss Marsden’s room.
The latter young lady did not wish to go to the breakfast-table, and Nina refused to leave her. “I don’t like the panther,” she said, evasively. “His spots are beginning to show. His smooth skin is quite changed. I shall not go to the table again unless you are there to take the seat between us.”
Miss Marsden was curious; but she could obtain no further details from her with regard to the spots, beyond the bald information that they were plainly visible,—even though she sent Marie from the room under pretence of getting coffee and toast for their breakfast.