Judge for yourself; she is the daughter of Dr.
Derwent, a distinguished scientific man, who has been having a glimpse of Colonial life.

When we were a day or two out I found that Miss Derwent was the object of special interest; she and her father had been the guests of no less a personage than Trafford Romaine, and it was reported that the great man had offered her marriage! Who started the rumour I don't know, but it is quite true that Romaine _did_ propose to her--and was refused! I am assured of it by a friend of theirs on board, Mr.Arnold Jacks, an intimate friend of Romaine; but he declared that he did not start the story, and was surprised to find it known.
Miss Derwent herself?
No, my dear cynical mamma! She isn't that sort.
She likes me as much as I like her, I think, but in all our talk not a word from her about the great topic of curiosity.

It is just possible, I fear, that she means to marry Mr.Arnold Jacks, who, by the bye, is a son of a Member of Parliament, and rather an interesting man, but, I am quite sure, not the man for _her_.

If she will come down into Hampshire with me may I bring her?
It would so rejoice your dear soul to be assured that I have made such a friend, after what you are pleased to call my riff-raff foreign intimacies." A few words more of affectionate banter, and she signed herself "Helen M.Borisoff." As she was addressing the envelope, the sound of a book thrown on to the table just in front of her caused her to look up, and she saw Irene Derwent.
"What's the matter?
Why are you damaging the ship's literature ?" she asked gaily.
"No, I can't stand that!" exclaimed Irene.

"It's too imbecile.