“You see,” continued the mate, twisting his hands, “it might be a long job, and I—I was wondering—what you would do in the meantime. I was wondering whether you could hold out.”
“Hold out?” repeated Miss Tyrell, very coldly.
“Whether you’ve got enough money,” blurted the mate.
Miss Tyrell turned upon him a face in which there was now no lack of colour. “That is my business,” she said, stiffly.
“Mine, too,” said Fraser, gazing steadily at the pretty picture of indignation before him. “I was Flower’s friend as well as his mate, and you are only a girl.” The indignation became impatience. “Little more than a child,” he murmured, scrutinising her.
“I am quite big enough to mind my own business,” said Poppy, reverting to chilly politeness.
“I wish you would promise me you won’t leave here or do anything until I have seen you again,” said Fraser, who was anxious to consult his captain on this new phase of affairs.
“Certainly not,” said Miss Tyrell, rising and standing by her chair, “and thank you for calling.”
Fraser rubbed his chin helplessly.
“Thank you for calling,” repeated the girl, still standing.