“That is a very beautiful young man next me,” said Nina, earnestly. “Do you know who he is?”
“No; don’t want to. A regular tailor’s figure.”
“What is his name?”
“Delessert; now please stop your charming gabble and let me work,” and, whirling around his chair toward the table, he occupied himself in scribbling queer figures like hieroglyphics, the meaning of which Nina was unable to determine. She leaned back on her cushions and indulged in sweet idleness. Presently Captain Fordyce’s gold-rimmed cap caught her dreamy, wandering eye. To glance from it to its owner was a natural thing. She lazily surveyed his face through her half-shut eyelids. What an air of command he carried. If she were a sailor she would be afraid to disobey the slightest order coming from that determined mouth; but, not being a sailor,—she laughed so distinctly that she feared he heard her. But he did not. His mind was fully taken up with his writing, and, seeing this, she closed her eyes and gave herself up to a retrospect of the exciting and fatiguing events of the last two days.
CHAPTER VI.
LET US MAKE A NEW BEGINNING.
Suddenly a seeming trumpet voice broke in upon her slumbers. She started, and half rose from her chair.
“Eh! what?” she cried, crossly, “no, I am not asleep; why do you roar at me in that fashion?”
“I spoke in an ordinary tone of voice,” said Captain Fordyce, quietly.