"Coming?" he asked, holding back, while the red-haired man gave a loud
guffaw and dug him in the ribs.
"Now, now, Freddy--vat's his great weakness--a little bit o' skirt," he
explained to the others, who laughed loudly.
"Coming where?" asked Marcella with pleased interest, though she wished
his face was not so appalling. "Is it tea-time?"
"No. Come an' 'ave a drink," he said.
"Oh, can we get one? I am glad. I missed lunch. You were luckier, I
suppose, as you have been here before and understand the rules. It's
very kind of you."
"I never mind being kind to young ladies," he said, leering at her.
"Look here, you sit down here an' I'll bring you a drink. Then we c'n
have a little talk and get to know each other better."
She sat down, feeling horrible at hating his face when he was so kind.
She heard laughter from the men who had gone a little way up the deck to
a doorway, and then Ole Fred came back with a small tumbler in one hand
and a large one in the other. The small one he put into Marcella's hand.
"Oh--" she began, looking at it doubtfully.
"What's up?" he asked, sitting down very close to her.
"I'm sorry. I wish I'd asked you to bring tea."
"Oh, you can't get tea. Anyway, ship's tea is rotten. Drink that up,
dear. It'll put a bit of go into you. I like young ladies with a bit of
go.
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