are not well, and it is bad
for you to sit up late... Won't you say good-night now, and go straight
to bed?"

He straightened himself, and drew a deep breath. As if a veil had been
drawn from his face, the blank look vanished, and the soul of the man
looked at her through the bloodshot eyes. For the moment he was
startled into sobriety.

"If--if you ask it. Of course. At--at once!" he said, and turning
followed in her wake.

Had Mrs Mannering seen, or had she not? Katrine could not decide. She
was thankful at least that she was treated to no remarks, but could
hurry into bed and lie quietly in the darkness, thinking over the
situation. One thing was certain--the incident had at a stride carried
Vernon Keith and herself beyond the stage of conventional acquaintance.
It seemed impossible that they could meet again without reference to
that short, pregnant meeting. What would be said? Would he be shamed,
resentful, defiant? Katrine could not guess; hardly knew for which mood
to wish. Curiously enough the success of her appeal had roused a
nervous mistrust, so that she regretted her own audacity, and wished
helplessly that she had waited for Captain Bedford's help. "Will he
think it was bold of me?" she questioned of her own heart. "Will they
tell him in the smoke-room that I walked about with a man to whom no
other girl will speak? Will he think I am bold and fast, and tell
_Jim_?" Quick as a dart came the answering assurance. "_Jim will
understand_!" and at the comfort of it she laughed softly aloud.

A sleepy murmur from the opposite bunk reminded her of the existence of
her room-mate. She blushed and stammered in the dark:

"I--I beg your pardon. What did you say?"

"_Bless you_!" repeated the voice distinctly. "But don't do it again.--
He'll keep, my dear--he'll keep!"

The next morning, to Katrine's relief, there was no sign of Vernon Keith
at breakfast. She drew her chair into a quiet corner and sat with her
back to the passing stream, affecting to be engrossed in her book, but
shortly before noon a shadow loomed, and with a fluttering of heart she
divined that the dreaded encounter was at hand. He placed his chair by
her side, and fixed her with haggard eyes, but he spoke no word, not
even the conventional greeting; it was left to her to open the
conversation.

"Oh, Mr Keith--good-morning! I was reading.--Isn't it a nice day?"

"Is it?" he queried listlessly. "I was not thinking o