y?"

"If you mean Am I ill at sea? I am glad to say that I am _not_!" she
replied. "I _love_ the sea; but I hate voyaging upon it."

"That sounds somewhat paradoxical, does it not?" I ventured to
insinuate.

"Possibly it does," she admitted. "What I mean is that, while I never
enjoy such perfect health anywhere as I do when at sea, and while I
passionately admire the ever-changing beauty and poetry of the ocean and
sky in their varying moods, I find it distinctly irksome and unpleasant
to be pent up for months within the narrow confines of a ship, with no
possibility of escape from my surroundings however unpleasant they may
be. There is no privacy, and no change on board a ship; one is
compelled to meet the same people day after day, and to be brought into
more or less intimate contact with them, whether one wishes it or not."

"That is undoubtedly true," I acknowledged, "so far, at least, as
meeting the same people day after day is concerned. But surely one need
not necessarily be brought into intimate contact with them, unless so
minded; it is not difficult to make the average person understand that
anything approaching to intimacy is unwelcome."

"Is it not?" she retorted drily. "Then I am afraid that my experience
has been more unfortunate than yours. I have more than once been
obliged to be actually rude to people before. I could succeed in
convincing them that I would prefer not to be on intimate terms with
them."

And therewith Miss Onslow ever so slightly turned herself away from me,
and addressed herself to the contents of her plate with a manner that
seemed indicative of a desire to terminate the conversation.

I thought that I already began to understand this very charming and
interesting young lady. I had not the remotest idea who or what she
was, beyond the bare fact that her name was Onslow, but her style and
her manners--despite her singular hauteur--stamped her unmistakably as
one accustomed to move in a high plane of society; that she was
inordinately proud and intensely exclusive was clear, but I had an idea
that this fault--if such it could be considered--was due rather to
training than to any innate imperfection of character; and I could
conceive that--the barrier of her exclusiveness once passed--she might
prove to be winsome and fascinating beyond the power of words to
express. But I had a suspicion that the man who should be bold enough
to attempt the passage of that barrier wo