you’ll be glad enough to be a passenger when we stop at various interesting ports and you want to go ashore. Sometimes both the nurses are almost too busy to go ashore, and one of them always has to stay on duty.”
“Well, that is a consideration,” Leonie agreed with a smile. “I don’t want to miss any of the shore expeditions. We have our first stop the day after tomorrow, don’t we?”
“Should do. Gibraltar. But it’s a very brief stop and hardly worth going ashore.”
“But of course I shall go! ‘The Rock’ is almost solid history, isn’t it?” Leonie said.
“I suppose you might say so.” He smiled at her eagerness, as he so often did. “It made not a bad start as one of the Pillars of Hercules, and was still making history in the last war.”
“Then I shall certainly go,” Leonie declared. “And I’m sure Claire will too.”
But when she spoke to Claire about it later, Claire, for all her friendliness, was rather evasive, and seemed disinclined to say whether she would or would not go ashore.
“Have you been there before?” Leonie wanted to know.
But Claire shook her head.
“Well, then, surely you want to see something of it?”
To this, however, Claire said something about waiting to see what other people were going to do, since it was only a very short stop. And suddenly it came to Leonie, with disagreeable certainty, that what Claire intended to do was to go ashore with Kingsley Stour, if he were off duty, but to go with him alone.
It was this which finally brought Leonie up against reality with an unpleasant jolt. For she saw, suddenly, that however safe the two might seem while they were on board the Capricorna, at any one of the ports the situation was completely in their hands.
To leave the ship by the simple process of not returning on time might be a drastic proceeding. But two people in love, who had already so boldly planned for what they wanted, would certainly not stop at that, if they thought their happiness was involved.
Thrills of apprehension rippled up and down Leonie’s spine at the thought of Claire going off with Kingsley Stour at Gibraltar or Naples or Columbo—and not returning. To her would fall the unenviable task of telling Sir James all about it, while she shouldered the dreadful sense of guilt that everything was her fault because she had failed to warn him in time.
Frightened by her own mental pictures, she decided that she simply must write something to her employer, even if it were only a casual hint, or an idle mention of the Assistant Surgeon’s name.
“It shouldn’t be so difficult,” she told herself.
But it was. Much the most difficult letter she had ever tried to write.
A dozen times she started, and a dozen times she tore up her attempt. And then Claire came into the cabin, terrifying her lest her purpose be discovered and, at the same time, making her feel a double-dyed traitor.
What Claire had to say did at least represent a reprieve. For it seemed that she had now quite made up her mind to go ashore at Gib—as everyone was now very airily calling it—and she hoped that Leonie would accompany her.
“Why, of course!” In her relief, Leonie sounded almost ecstatic, and she decided that perhaps she had been frightening herself unduly. “Mr. Pembridge says it’s such a brief stop that it’s hardly worth while going. But I certainly want to see anything we can.”
“Mr. Pembridge himself is going ashore,” replied Claire knowledgeably. And when Leonie asked how she knew, she replied rather briefly, “Because Mr. Stour is not. One of them has to stay on duty.”
“Does that mean,” inquired Leonie, as carelessly as possible, “that Mr. Stour will have his turn at Naples?”
“Not necessarily.” Claire shrugged. “I suppose the decision naturally rests with the senior man.”
Immediately—though perhaps illogically—it seemed to Leonie that the danger retreated. And because the letter to her employer represented
“Well, that is a consideration,” Leonie agreed with a smile. “I don’t want to miss any of the shore expeditions. We have our first stop the day after tomorrow, don’t we?”
“Should do. Gibraltar. But it’s a very brief stop and hardly worth going ashore.”
“But of course I shall go! ‘The Rock’ is almost solid history, isn’t it?” Leonie said.
“I suppose you might say so.” He smiled at her eagerness, as he so often did. “It made not a bad start as one of the Pillars of Hercules, and was still making history in the last war.”
“Then I shall certainly go,” Leonie declared. “And I’m sure Claire will too.”
But when she spoke to Claire about it later, Claire, for all her friendliness, was rather evasive, and seemed disinclined to say whether she would or would not go ashore.
“Have you been there before?” Leonie wanted to know.
But Claire shook her head.
“Well, then, surely you want to see something of it?”
To this, however, Claire said something about waiting to see what other people were going to do, since it was only a very short stop. And suddenly it came to Leonie, with disagreeable certainty, that what Claire intended to do was to go ashore with Kingsley Stour, if he were off duty, but to go with him alone.
It was this which finally brought Leonie up against reality with an unpleasant jolt. For she saw, suddenly, that however safe the two might seem while they were on board the Capricorna, at any one of the ports the situation was completely in their hands.
To leave the ship by the simple process of not returning on time might be a drastic proceeding. But two people in love, who had already so boldly planned for what they wanted, would certainly not stop at that, if they thought their happiness was involved.
Thrills of apprehension rippled up and down Leonie’s spine at the thought of Claire going off with Kingsley Stour at Gibraltar or Naples or Columbo—and not returning. To her would fall the unenviable task of telling Sir James all about it, while she shouldered the dreadful sense of guilt that everything was her fault because she had failed to warn him in time.
Frightened by her own mental pictures, she decided that she simply must write something to her employer, even if it were only a casual hint, or an idle mention of the Assistant Surgeon’s name.
“It shouldn’t be so difficult,” she told herself.
But it was. Much the most difficult letter she had ever tried to write.
A dozen times she started, and a dozen times she tore up her attempt. And then Claire came into the cabin, terrifying her lest her purpose be discovered and, at the same time, making her feel a double-dyed traitor.
What Claire had to say did at least represent a reprieve. For it seemed that she had now quite made up her mind to go ashore at Gib—as everyone was now very airily calling it—and she hoped that Leonie would accompany her.
“Why, of course!” In her relief, Leonie sounded almost ecstatic, and she decided that perhaps she had been frightening herself unduly. “Mr. Pembridge says it’s such a brief stop that it’s hardly worth while going. But I certainly want to see anything we can.”
“Mr. Pembridge himself is going ashore,” replied Claire knowledgeably. And when Leonie asked how she knew, she replied rather briefly, “Because Mr. Stour is not. One of them has to stay on duty.”
“Does that mean,” inquired Leonie, as carelessly as possible, “that Mr. Stour will have his turn at Naples?”
“Not necessarily.” Claire shrugged. “I suppose the decision naturally rests with the senior man.”
Immediately—though perhaps illogically—it seemed to Leonie that the danger retreated. And because the letter to her employer represented
Similar Books
