He looked at her expectantly.
"I will tell you the truth," she said. "I went early to my state-room, because I was tired of Lieutenant De Vere. I wanted to be alone. But it was so warm and close in my room, I could not breathe freely. So I threw a dark shawl over me and went out on deck again. There was no one there. I slipped around in the shadow of the wheel-house and sat down."
"And then we came—De Vere and I," said Lancaster.
"Yes," she replied. "I was frightened at first, and shrank closer into the darkness. I did not want to be found out. I thought you would smoke your cigars and go away in a little while."
There was a minute's silence.
"I wish I had been a thousand miles away!" the captain thought, ruefully, to himself.
"So then you commenced to talk about me," continued Leonora. "I ought not to have listened, I know, but I could not make up my mind to interrupt you; it would have been so embarrassing, you know. So I kept still, hoping you would stop every minute, and thus I heard all."
"You heard nothing but kindness—you must grant that, at least," he said.
The red lips curled at the corners, whether with anger or feeling he could not tell.