“We are going across to Paris first,” she replied, still in a low voice.
Most of us, however, were looking at the “dragon.” That lady sat bolt upright in her chair as if she could not believe her ears. Then she said, in an acid voice, “Miss Fleming.”
“Yes, Mrs. Scrivener-Yapling,” answered that young lady.
“Will you oblige me by coming here for a moment?”
Miss Fleming slowly revolved in her circular chair, then rose and walked up to the head of the table.
“Miss Strong,” said the “dragon” calmly, to the young lady who sat beside her, “will you oblige me by taking Miss Fleming’s place at the centre of the table?”
Miss Strong rose and took Miss Fleming’s place.
“Sit down beside me, please?” said the “dragon” to Miss Fleming; and that unfortunate young woman, now as red as a rose, sat down beside the “dragon.”
Stewart Montague bit his lip. The rest of us said nothing, and appeared not to notice what had occurred. Conversation went on among ourselves. The incident seemed ended; but, when the fish was brought, and placed before Miss Fleming, she did not touch it. Her eyes were still upon the table. Then, apparently unable to struggle any longer with her emotions, she rose gracefully, and, bowing to the captain, said, “Excuse me, please.” She walked down the long saloon with a firm step, and disappeared. The “dragon” tried to resume conversation with the captain as if nothing had happened; but that official answered only in monosyllables, and a gloom seemed to have settled down upon the dinner party.
Very soon the captain rose and excused himself. There was something to attend to on deck, he said, and he left us.