Slyne smiled slightly as he sat down in a basket-chair, to look about him while she was still busy within. The little after-saloon which had been her home for so long was finely furnished; more so, perhaps, than was apparent to Slyne, whose taste in that respect inclined to the florid. But he could not help noticing how dainty and neat and feminine was its entire effect, with its cushioned cosy corners, snow-white curtains and draperies. Its purely fragrant atmosphere stirred even Slyne's conscience a little.
He lay back in his seat, and, gazing about him, recalled to mind all he had been able to learn as to Sallie's strange past. It all fitted in so perfectly with the fabric of his wonderful new plans that he could find no possible flaw in them. And when Sallie herself at length came out to him from her cabin, he was optimistically disposed to be very generous in his dealings with her.
Fresh from her bath and doubly bewitching in her clinging, intimate draperies, she met Slyne's glad, eager glance with grave, doubtful eyes, and ignored entirely the hand he held out to her as he sprang from his chair. But he affected not to notice her attitude of distrust, and, greeting her gaily, saved his face by laying his outstretched hand on another chair, which he set a little nearer his own.
"Won't you sit down?" he suggested with debonair courtesy.
But she shook her head; she was evidently afraid to receive him on any such friendly footing. She did not even care to ask him what he was doing in evening dress at breakfast-time and on board the Olive Branch. But in her troubled eyes he could read that unspoken inquiry.
"I've been travelling all night to get back to you, Sallie," he told her, in a low, eager tone, "and I hadn't time to change—I was in such a hurry to tell you the news. I've come to take you away from the Olive Branch,—and Captain Dove. I've come to set you free."
She stared at him as though she had not heard aright, her lips parted, her eyebrows arched, a faint, puzzled, questioning frown on her forehead.
"I've come to set you free," he said again.
"At what price?" she asked suddenly, with disconcerting directness, and his would-be straightforward glance wavered.
"Don't put it that way!" he urged. "I ask no more than the fulfilment of the promise you made me. And—listen, Sallie. I've found out who you really are and where your home is. I'll take you there if only you—