“Haven’t you got a typewriter, sir? Haven’t you got a typewriter?” spluttered the disturbed man.
“I believe we have,” returned Captain Fordyce. “Merdyce,” and he addressed his own servant who stood behind his chair, “ask the chief steward to have Sir Hervey Forrest’s menu typewritten to-morrow.”
The knight was enraged. He had attained to his present high position from a comparatively low origin. There were enough jokes at his expense floating about now to keep him in constant irritation. In addition, the impression would get out that he could only decipher the most legible handwriting. “I don’t want a menu typewritten for me alone, sir,” he stammered; “have them done for all the passengers.”
Captain Fordyce, usually impatient and scornful with bickering, faultfinding passengers, was now intensely entertained, owing to the fact that Miss Brighteyes was hanging on his every word and look, and was breathlessly watching every turn of the dispute.
“Only as they request them, Sir Hervey,” he said, good-naturedly. “Do I understand you to say you revoke your request?”
Lady Forrest murmured something in a low voice to her choleric spouse, and he flung himself over his plate. “Let it go, sir, let it go. Your menu is a slovenly thing, but I prefer it as it is.”
“Merdyce,” said Captain Fordyce, turning to his servant with an imperturbable air, “do not tell the chief steward to typewrite a menu for Sir Hervey Forrest to-morrow.”
Nina exchanged a smile with her husband, then stole a quiet glance across the vacant chair on her right hand. Beyond the chair sat a young man; and she was quite well aware of the fact that, while she had been taken up with a survey of the other people at the table, he had been throwing her a number of scrutinising glances across the red plush seat. Now she looked stealthily at him. Heretofore her acquaintance with men had been extremely limited. In les affaires du cœur she would prove a formidable rival to Molière’s Agnes, but that had not prevented her from forming several theories with regard to the stronger sex. They had no right to be as handsome as women, that she firmly believed; yet, notwithstanding her preconceived opinion, a feeling of admiration stole over her as she surveyed the manly beauty of the tall, graceful form next her; and she half-impatiently acknowledged to herself that he eclipsed by far the most beautiful woman that she had ever seen.
His eyelids’ “black and silken fringe” was drooping on the “vermil tinge” of his cheek, as he gazed thoughtfully at his plate. Something pleasing must be passing through his mind, for soon he smiled faintly, and she caught a glimpse of glittering white teeth through the heavy black of his moustache. He had the full, distinct, and well-proportioned lips that, according to Lavater, designate a character hostile to falsehood, villainy, and baseness, but with a propensity to pleasure!
The infatuating nature of the science of physiognomy had led the girl to study intently a Lavater that she one day found among some old books belonging to Mrs. Danvers. Accordingly, she pieced out for her neighbour a character that she hoped she might have the satisfaction of finding to be correct. He was not wanting in the perpendicular incisions between the eyebrows that evidenced strength of mind, nor in the energy-portending black eyes. His horizontal eyebrows denoted a masculine and vigorous character, and the broad, square forehead, a strong memory.