The captain quailed. "No," he said, hastily. "Somebody once took a
paper of mine out of there, though," he added. "So I keep it locked up
now."
Miss Vickers dropped the brush in the pail, and, rising slowly to her
feet, stood wiping her hands on her coarse apron. Her face was red and
white in patches, and the captain, regarding her with growing uneasiness,
began to take in sail.
[Illustration: "Miss Vickers stood wiping her hands on her coarse
apron."]
"At least, I thought they did," he muttered.
Selina paid no heed. "Get out o' my kitchen," she said, in a husky
voice, as she brushed past him.
The captain obeyed hastily, and, stepping inside the dismantled room,
stood for some time gazing out of window at the rain. Then he filled
his pipe and, removing a small chair which was sitting upside down in a
large one, took its place and stared disconsolately at the patch of wet
floor and the general disorder.
At the end of an hour he took a furtive peep into the kitchen. Selina
Vickers was sitting with her back towards him, brooding over the stove.
It seemed clear to him that she was ashamed to meet his eye, and, glad to
see such signs of grace in her, he resolved to spare her further
confusion by going upstairs.
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