“Rufus, if you dare to think of such a thing!”
“I don’t. But Europe isn’t so big but what he can find us again if he wants to.”
“Ah, if he wants to!”
Ellen seemed to have let her mother take her languor below along with the shawls she had given her. Buttoned into a close jacket, and skirted short for the sea, she pushed against the breeze at Breckon’s elbow with a vigor that made him look his surprise at her. Girl-like, she took it that something was wrong with her dress, and ran herself over with an uneasy eye.
Then he explained: “I was just thinking how much you were like Miss Lottie-if you’ll excuse my being so personal. And it never struck me before.”
“I didn’t suppose we looked alike,” said Ellen.
“No, certainly. I shouldn’t have taken you for sisters. And yet, just now, I felt that you were like her. You seem so much stronger this morning—perhaps it’s that the voyage is doing you good. Shall you be sorry to have it end?”
“Shall you? That’s the way Lottie would answer.”
Breckon laughed. “Yes, it is. I shall be very sorry. I should be willing to have it rough again, it that would make it longer. I liked it’s being rough. We had it to ourselves.” He had not thought how that sounded, but if it sounded particular, she did not notice it.
She merely said, “I was surprised not to be seasick, too.”