Nina, having fully satisfied herself on this point, reached out her hand for the sugar-bowl; and, carefully dusting her oatmeal, poured cream on it, and proceeded to take her breakfast in silence and composure.
“Why, there’s Captain Fordyce,” said Mrs. Danvers, suddenly. “Come in, come in,” she went on, addressing the sailor, who stood by the low, open window. “You must want some breakfast.”
They were all staring at him, but he looked his usual self, and, with a brief salutation to his host and hostess, he entered the room and seated himself at the table.
“Have some hot drink,” said Mrs. Danvers, passing him a cup. “It will make you feel better.”
His gaze went suspiciously to Nina, and the faintest and most evanescent of blushes passed over his dark face. “I had no dinner yesterday,” he said, gruffly, “and the racket on the wharf was deafening.”
“Did you have a prosperous voyage from England?” asked Mrs. Danvers, amiably.
“Yes.”
“And an agreeable company of passengers?”
“Fair,—I didn’t see much of them.”
“Were there any nice, nice girls on board?” lisped Nina, in her infantine fashion.