“Married him for his money,” soliloquised the woman as she sidled along the passage. “Country girl—parents made her. Don’t like him—Oh, sir! beg pardon!”
She had almost collided with Mr. Delessert. He favoured her with a glimpse of his beautiful white teeth, then he said, as she was about to pass him, “Stewardess, can you tell me the name of that pretty girl who sat next the captain at dinner?”
“She’s his wife, sir.”
“His wife!” he echoed, in faint skepticism.
“Yes, sir.”
“Did he tell you so?”
“No, sir; he don’t have no conversation with us. Her name ain’t on the list. Jim—he’s the head cook’s boy—he was up to the office just afore we started, mailin’ a package for me. One of the clerks says to him, ‘So Capting Sunshine’s got married.’ That’s the name they give him ’cause he’s so glum. Jim, he gasped, but the clerk showed him the sailin’ list. Last name was Mrs. Fordyce, room ninety-three. You see, sir, the company’s particular. The captings ain’t allowed to carry wives only once in so often.”
Mr. Delessert was listening politely, but with no great show of interest. However, when she finished, he drawled, in a languid way, “Do you know what Mrs. Fordyce’s name was before she was married?”
“No, sir, but I could find out.”
“Do so, I beg,” and he slipped something into her hand, and passed on.