"Left my letter of credit in a coat in the steamer-trunk that was packed for storage in Liverpool. And they've likely carried it out a'ready! I must find that steward right away, dearie, and tip him to hunt it up."
"Let me go with you, please."
"You'd only be in the way. If you want to finish our walk, stay here, and I'll come right back for you. Perhaps Lord Clandonald wouldn't mind——"
"Oh! no, father! I'll stay alone."
The voice was decided, even positive. Clandonald, bowing, moved away in another direction than that taken by Mr. Winstanley.
It was over. He had done with Posey Winstanley and all her kind. If she were so capricious as her actions indicated, this decision was a thoroughly good thing.
But all the same, like Lot's wife, he looked back. Posey had taken out her pocket handkerchief, and was wiping her eyes with the little wisp half the ship had picked up after her. Clandonald, in two strides, returned to her side.
"I am not going to push myself into your company. Just two minutes, and I'll be off. But I think you owe it to me to say why you are treating me like a scoundrel or an impostor."
"Oh! not that, not that!" she cried piteously.
"Have I done anything to forfeit a place among your decent acquaintances since that time you clung to my arm and—I mean since you let me feel that I might stand between you and insult——"