"'And we see not across the islands
The clouds that come up the sun,
Until they have folded in silence
The headlands one by one.
"'And the winds to each other calling
Over the waters pass,
And we say: "They are wrecked at dawning,
The hopes of our lives, alas!"'"
"Lugubrious reading, certainly," comments the lively young baronet. "Does Charteris enjoy that style of poetry for a summer evening by the sea?"
"I—I was not reading to Mr. Charteris," the girl stammers, vaguely confused. "I was reading when he came, and then I laid the book down."
Both men regard her a little gravely.
The touch of sadness in face and voice is strange, yet sweet, in the young and lovely girl.
Sir George tells himself that there is some depth to this lovely American girl, and wonders why Charteris doesn't fall in love with her.
For himself, he is very far gone indeed, and Vane, irritated by his society, abruptly announces that he will go up and see Mr. Langton.
"He will be very pleased, I know," Reine answers, brightening suddenly, and Vane turns away with a sudden angry conviction that she is glad to have him gone.
Sir George is glad at least, there can be no two opinions as to that. He settles himself delightedly in Vane's vacated chair.