Bedford straightened himself, his eyes met Katrine's, and contracted
in quick recognition. The flushed, laughing face stood out in charming
contrast among the pallid, elderly throng, but the laughter was replaced
by embarrassment, as scattering apologies to right and left, Bedford
made a bee line towards her through the serried chairs, and seated
himself on the deck at her feet.

"Morning, Miss Beverley! I was wondering where you had hidden
yourself!"

"Good morning. Thank you very much! I've wondered several times how
one would be able to endure the Red Sea, _and_ Jackey at the same time,
but he will have no spirit left in him, after _that_ trouncing! He
deserved it, little wretch, but--are you always as drastic in your
retaliations?"

Sitting on the deck, his hands clasped round his knees, looking up
smiling into her face, he looked young, almost boyish, despite the
crow's-feet round his eyes, the powdering of grey above his ears.
Katrine felt young too, lapped with a delicious sense of well-being. To
one who had never before been out of England it was an excitement just
to be able to wear dainty white clothes, to sit screened beneath double
awnings, looking out on a blaze of light. It added to her content that
her companion looked so young, that his eyes twinkled when he smiled.
The night before his face had shown lines, which she had interpreted as
signs of the suffering of the past months, but this morning he looked
rested and refreshed.

"Oh, that nipper! We shall be good pals after this. He only needed a
lesson. I like kiddies," he said easily. The fingers which had swung
the sturdy youngster with such ease, flicked daintily at a scattering of
dust on his sleeve. Katrine noticed the shape of the fingers, long,
pointed, the nails filbert-shaped, and carefully manicured. His
toilette suggested a consideration of ease above fashion, but the hands
were evidently tended with care. The woman in her approved the
distinction.

As Katrine looked round the deck she noticed more than one pair of eyes
riveted upon her in curious scrutiny, but neither Mrs Mannering nor
Vernon Keith were in sight. She divined that the latter was
deliberately keeping out of her way, and struggled after regret. She
_was_ anxious to introduce him to Captain Bedford, at the same time
there was no denying that a _tete-a-tete_ was more agreeable than a
triologue.

"Sister Anne, Sister Anne, is there anybody coming?" said the