Chapter III
Kenan Buel walked the deck alone in the evening light, and felt that he ought to be enjoying the calmness and serenity of the ocean expanse around him after the noise and squalor of London; but now that the excitement of the recent quarrel was over, he felt the reaction, and his natural diffidence led him to blame himself. Most of the passengers were below, preparing for dinner, and he had the deck to himself. As he turned on one of his rounds, he saw approaching him the girl of Euston Station, as he mentally termed her. She had his book in her hand.
“I have come to beg your pardon,” she said. “I see it was your own book I took from you to-day.”
“My own book!” cried Buel, fearing she had somehow discovered his guilty secret.
“Yes. Didn’t you buy this for yourself?” She held up the volume.
“Oh, certainly. But you are quite welcome to it, I am sure.”
“I couldn’t think of taking it away from you before you have read it.”