"Then look," Huntington insisted, as they stepped out on the deck again. "You could navigate this sea in a canoe."
"Well, anyway," she compromised, "I shall be much more comfortable in my little steamer chair, so lead me to it."
Mrs. Thatcher, still affected by her last sight of Hamlen, was glad to sit down beside her friend while the others walked up and down the decks, watching the passing panorama of the shore, knowing that it would last too short a time at best.
"Marian," Edith said suddenly, "I have a presentiment that I shall die of seasickness on this trip home, and there is something I want to say to you while I can."
"No one ever died of seasickness, child," Marian laughed; "but if you have something serious on your conscience the sooner you get it off the better."
"It's Mr. Cosden," Edith explained.
"I noticed that something had gone wrong in that quarter. Has he escaped you, after all?"
"It is really too bad of you to take advantage of me when I'm so ill!"
"My poor Edith!" Marian said soothingly, "forgive me, dear; I forgot your serious condition for the moment. Tell me about Mr. Cosden."
"He is impossible," the invalid announced. "I really thought there was some hope for him until a few days ago, but he is so frightfully commercial that he crocks."