“Oh, yes; she knew that,” said Dunham; “she spoke of it at the time. But I thought—”
“Oh, she did! Then I think that it would be very little if she recognized the mere fact that something had happened.”
“Why, you said you hoped she wouldn't. You said it would be embarrassing. You're hard to please, Staniford.”
“I shouldn't choose to have her speak for my pleasure,” Staniford returned. “But it argues a dullness and coldness in her—”
“I don't believe she's dull; I don't believe she's cold,” said Dunham, warmly.
“What do you believe she is?”
“Afraid.”
“Pshaw!” said Staniford.
The eve of their arrival at Messina, he discharged one more duty by telling Hicks that he had better come on to Trieste with them. “Captain Jenness asked me to speak to you about it,” he said. “He feels a little awkward, and thought I could open the matter better.”
“The captain's all right,” answered Hicks, with unruffled humility, “but I'd rather stop at Messina. I'm going to get home as soon as I can,—strike a bee-line.”