I poured out what remained and handed it to her, pressing her acceptance.
“Thank you—no more.”
She drew on her glove, lowered her veil, and sank back once more.
Feeling a certain irritation that in this first clash of authority she should have resisted, I sat down.
“To-morrow morning I’ll be better provided.”
“To-morrow? We spend another night on deck?” she said, in surprise.
“That’s orders. But you don’t obey orders,” I said, glancing at the deck. “Orders are to bring your life belt, and you’ve not done it.”
“No—I didn’t think of it.”
“You are not afraid?”
“Afraid? Of that?” she said slowly. She shook her head and I wondered at the look behind her veil.