“For a wrap, yes,” he remarked, folding it over his arm. “It is just the thing for youth and beauty, and gives a glow to your travelling frock. It also reminds me of Rubicon Meadows,—you remember you used to wear it there?”
Yes, she remembered it; but she made no reply, and silently followed him up a companionway, and past the deck-cabins to a little room just under the bridge. It was a tiny place, but exceedingly cosy. Crimson curtains hung before the door and the two small windows; the walls were lined with mirrors, pictures, and different kinds of nautical instruments that to Nina’s inexperienced eyes looked like mouse-traps. A large lamp covered by a rose shade shed a soft, subdued light over everything.
“How delightfully comfortable!” she exclaimed, her displeasure suddenly leaving her.
Captain Fordyce pulled forward an armchair, and with a pleased smile ran down the steps to the deck. Presently he came back. “Miss Marsden is horribly sick, and hopes we may all go to the bottom before morning.”
“Poor girl!” said Nina, compassionately. “Can I do anything for her?”
“No; she has her maid and the stewardess.”
“A maid—all to herself?”
“Yes, she has plenty of money.”
“Where does she come from?”
“Boston.”