“At last!” he exclaimed, one evening, with a sigh of satisfaction, as he annexed the chair which Dick had just vacated. “I do believe that conceited beast North thinks you like to hear him everlastingly prosing away, Miss Keeling.”
“People are often blind to one’s real feelings in their presence,” said Georgia; but the double meaning went unperceived.
“Yes; but he might have had a little pity for me,” said Fitz, complacently, for he had an artless habit of exhibiting to the public gaze any sentiments, such as most people prefer to keep concealed in their own bosoms, that he considered did him credit. “Every one on board must know by this time that I am awfully gone on you.”
“Mr Anstruther!”
“Oh, I mean, of course, that I have admired you awfully ever since I first knew you. A fellow expects a little consideration to be shown him when he is in l—I mean—don’t you know?”
“How long have you known me, by the bye?” inquired Georgia.
“Oh, all this voyage. It’s been abominably long, don’t you think? But I don’t mean that, you know; it’s been jolly.”
“Yes; it is really a long time,” pursued Georgia, meditatively. “It is all but a fortnight, isn’t it?”
“A fortnight is as long as a year sometimes,” said Fitz. “I mean, as good,” he added, hurriedly.
“Yes; only a fortnight ago you were saying all this to Miss Hervey,” was the unexpected response.