"Your queer-named friend doesn't look happy," commented Lord Guenn at her elbow.
"Go and tell him I wish to speak with him," ordered the delectable tyrant.
The Englishman did so.
"I'm not feeling well," apologized the Tyro. "Please ask her to excuse me."
"You'd best ask her yourself," suggested the other. "I'm not much of a diplomat."
"No. I'm going below," said the wretched Tyro.
Well for him had he gone at once. But he lingered, and when he turned again he was frozen with horror to see her bearing down upon him with all sails set and colors flying.
"Why weren't you at the dance last night?" she demanded.
He looked at her with a piteous eye and shook his head.