For a moment Julia's eyes showed her surprise; an apology was not what she expected, and, to tell the truth, it did not altogether please her. She knew that she and her father had no right to it while the money was unpaid.
"Please do not apologise," she said; "there is no need, I quite understand."
"I was labouring under a false impression," Rawson-Clew explained.
She nodded. "I know," she said, "but it is cleared up now; no one who spoke with my father could possibly imagine he lived by his wits."
Which ambiguous remark may have been meant to apply to the Captain's mental outfit more than his moral one. When Rawson-Clew knew Julia better he came to the conclusion it probably did, at the time he thought it wise not to answer it.
"Here is your basket," he said; "I think it is clean now."
She made a movement to take it, but her arm was numb and powerless from the blow she had received; it was the right shoulder which had been struck, and that hand was clearly useless for the time being; with a wince of pain, she stretched out the left.
But he drew the basket back. "You are hurt," he said.
"No, I'm not, nothing to speak of; it only hurts me when I move that arm; I will carry the basket with the other hand."
"How far have you to go?"