Now she consciously dressed as
Marcella; it was probably the first time in her life she had looked
interestedly in a mirror; comparing herself with Mrs. Hetherington, she
felt vaguely dissatisfied: she wished she were much nicer. Noticing the
vine leaves where she had twined them round the rail of her bunk, she
broke off two or three and tucked them in her dress at the waist.
Stepping back, she surveyed the effect, decided that it was as good as
could be managed, and tapped at the partition. She had heard Louis
moving about some time before.
There was no answer, and she decided that he must have gone on deck.
It was crowded with passengers waiting for the little boats to take them
ashore; Italians went here and there selling fruit, postcards and
jewellery straight from Birmingham; two flat coal lighters were drawing
ponderously alongside. She could not see Louis.
From end to end she searched the ship, even going on to the upper deck,
which to-day was not sacred to the upper-class passengers. But he was
nowhere to be seen. A lump came into her throat, her knees felt a little
shaky.
Going below again she saw Knollys looking about eagerly.
"Oh, there you are, miss. Mr. Fame desired me to give you this. He was
considerably hurried."
She took it with a word of thanks--a little note, folded three
cornerwise.
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