"I can assure you, captain," said I, "that I fully appreciate all your goodness. But a public ceremony!—No, a quite private affair in your cabin, if you please."
We measured half the length of the deck in silence, and I almost dreaded to hear him speak. He then said:
"It seems a pity to rob the passengers of an edifying sight. There are several couples in the steerage who ought to be married, and the example I counted upon offering them would be certain to take effect. But of course—if it's the young lady's wish,—by the way, you'll forgive me asking the question: it's quite a matter of form—no rudeness intended—you are sure that your name is Barclay?"
"Quite sure."
"What Barclay?"
"Herbert," said I.
"Herbert Barclay!" said he, "and the young lady's name's genuine too?"
"Perfectly genuine, captain."
"Grace Bellassys!" said he; "it sound a bit theatrical, don't it?"
"It is her name, nevertheless," said I laughing.