“No,” said Billie again. “No ... that is to say ... oh no, not at all.”
There was a third pause.
“On second thoughts,” said Bream, “I believe I’ll take a stroll on the promenade deck if you don’t mind.”
They said they did not mind. Bream Mortimer, having bumped his head twice against overhanging steel ropes, melted away.
“Who is that fellow?” demanded Sam wrathfully.
“He’s the son of father’s best friend.”
Sam started. Somehow this girl had always been so individual to him that he had never thought of her having a father.
“We have known each other all our lives,” continued Billie. “Father thinks a tremendous lot of Bream. I suppose it was because Bream was sailing by her that father insisted on my coming over on this boat. I’m in disgrace, you know. I was cabled for and had to sail at a few days’ notice. I....”
“Oh, hello!”
“Why, Bream!” said Billie looking at him as he stood on the old spot in the same familiar attitude with rather less affection than the son of her father’s best friend might have expected. “I thought you said you were going down to the promenade deck.