"
The wake of the tender widened out, lapped against the side of the
_Oriana_ and rippled away; it was no longer possible to distinguish
anything but a blurred mass of pinkish faces and dark clothes, splashed
by a crest of white handkerchiefs. Good-byes rang out to the undersong
of "We want more Beer." Marcella turned away and looked right into the
face of Louis Farne. It was a very red face, unnaturally red and
distorted; the brown eyes were bright with tears.
She stared at him in amazement; he really was a phenomenon to her--the
first young man she had ever seen, with the exception of the peasant
lads. She blinked her own dry eyes and frowned at him reflectively.
"Did it hurt you as much as that? Anyway, I'm very sorry," she said.
"D'you think I'm blubbing for that, idiot?" said the boy in a jerky
voice, and, bending almost double, darted down the companion-way.
She stared at him, and turned to the ship's rail again, drowning in
surprise. She was surprised at Tilbury now that she had time to look
about her. It was so utterly unromantic ashore--docks, wharves,
miserable buildings and brown fields, very distant. She remembered that
Queen Elizabeth had reviewed her troops at Tilbury when she was getting
ready for the Armada to land; she had expected that the glamour of that
ancient pageant would hang about Tilbury.
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