“Now,” he said, drawing aside the curtains, “let me escort you to your room.”
Nina did not know why a mist of tears suddenly floated before her eyes. Stumbling blindly out, she made a false step, and would have fallen, save for the protecting arm thrown around her. By the time they reached the deck she was speechless, and, drawing her arm through his own, Captain Fordyce walked toward the companion. There he paused in order that she might step over the high, brass-covered threshold of the door.
The careless debonair face of her handsome neighbour at dinner appeared. Seeing her, he took his cigar from his mouth, and lifted his cap as he passed. Captain Fordyce wrinkled his forehead slightly, and said in her ear, “Come for a walk. It will make you sleep better.”
Nina made a faint, convulsive effort to withdraw her arm from his. Without avail, however, for he did not perceive it, and drew her out on the deck again with a muttered, “It has got as dark as a pocket. I don’t like the way those clouds are gathering.”
There was no response to his remark, and for several minutes they paced in silence up and down the quarter-deck. “You are not talking,” he said, at last; “are you tired or in the doldrums?”
Their promenade had ceased, and they were standing by the stern rail looking down at the phosphorescent waves below. His seriousness was all gone, and in a jocular tone he ejaculated, “Doldrums it is!”
Nina was staring down at the churning, foaming mass around the angry screw. She, too, was trying to lash herself into a rage, but her effort was not as successful as that of the bit of machinery below; and it was in a weak and unstable voice that she murmured, “You have broken your promise.”
“What promise, darling?” It was very dark in the corner where they were standing, and he drew her closer and whispered the words in her ear.
“That—that you would be a stranger to me,” she whispered back.
He laughed immoderately. “You queer child!”