"I'm more sorry than I can say," she read. "The port doctor was an old
St. Crispin's man. He noticed me on deck and spoke. He and I were great
pals at the hospital, and he asked me to go ashore with him. He
remembered how keen I was on gynecology, and has a queer case he'd like
me to look at. It's his wife as a matter of fact. I made all sorts of
excuses, but he seemed so hurt I had to give way. I know this will
disappoint you horribly, but it seems unavoidable. I'll cut away as soon
as I can, and we'll still go to Pompeii. After all, I hear we don't sail
till one o'clock, so there'll be time--we'll come back in the moonlight.
Give my love to Jimmy and the schoolmaster.--L.F."
To her amazement she felt tears begin to prick her eyelids. She blinked
fiercely.
"Well, of all the babies! Did it cry because it was wanting to go out,
then?" she cried indignantly, and stood watching the coal bunkers being
opened. But she could not see much; she was thinking of Louis.
"You'll get filthy here!" said the third officer behind her, "and most
uncomfortable. I should advise you to go ashore."
"I can't. I'm waiting for someone," she explained.
"Then I'd go up on the boat deck. You've no idea how abominable it gets
down here. Coaling should be prohibited by Act of Parliament."
"Which is the boat-deck?" she asked, glad that her voice was sensible
again.
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