I am going
to lie down like a civilized being, and try and get a nap. You had
better do the same."
Lucille laughed.
"For my part," she said, "I find any part of the steamer except the
deck intolerable. I am going now in search of some fresh air.
Shall I send your woman along?"
Lady Carey nodded, for just then the steamer gave a violent lurch,
and she was not feeling talkative. Lucille went outside and walked
up and down until the lights of Calais were in sight. All the time
she felt conscious of the observation of a small man clad in a huge
mackintosh, whose peaked cap completely obscured his features. As
they were entering the harbour she purposely stood by his side. He
held on to the rail with one hand and turned towards her.
"It has been quite a rough passage, has it not?" he remarked.
She nodded.
"I have crossed," she said, "when it has been much worse. I do not
mind so long as one may come on deck."
"Your friend," he remarked, "is perhaps not so good a sailor?"
"I believe," Lucille said, "that she suffers a great deal. I just
looked in at her, and she was certainly uncomfortable."
The little man gripped the rail and held on to his cap with the
other hand.
"You are going to Paris?" he asked.
Lucille nodded.
"Yes."
They were in smoother water now.
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