"Why—but—" Jack began; "I had no idea"—
"Did you fancy we were here for the summer?" queried Katrine with demure interest.
The hint of teasing in her tone brought Castleport to himself. Half his social success lay in the fact that he was not easily disconcerted.
"As Mrs. Fairhew was good enough to tell me her plans," he returned coolly, "I naturally understood that you were to leave here before long, but I admit I hadn't thought you would go so soon."
"You see," Mrs. Fairhew explained, "we really must get on. Katrine has to do museums and things, as I told you. When I was a girl it wouldn't have been thought respectable for a girl to come out before she'd seen the Pitti and Uffizzi; but it's all different now."
"What nonsense, Aunt Anne! I don't believe you'd seen the galleries yourself when you came out."
"Indeed I had. I'll make you read all the finest print in the guide-books if you are impertinent. We take," she added, turning to Castleport, "the 3.08 for Genoa."
Jack was by nature quick and resolute; and before Mrs. Fairhew had got to this remark he had conceived a plan, and resolved to follow it out. Gravely regarding the thicket of oleanders behind Miss Marchfield, yet with the tail of his eye on the face of Jerry, which was alternately lighted and obscured as his cigarette glowed or waned, the captain remarked coolly:—
"That's a curious coincidence."
"Coincidence?" repeated Mrs. Fairhew questioningly.