Of course her father had hinted approval of his lordship's obvious intentions.

Countess of Ventnor! Yes, it was a nice title.

Still, she wanted another couple of years of careless freedom; in any event, why should Lady Tozer pry and probe?
And finally, why did the steward--oh, poor old Sir John! What _would_ have happened if the ice had slid down his neck?
Thoroughly comforted by this gleeful hypothesis, Miss Deane seized a favorable opportunity to dart across to the starboard side and see if Captain Ross's "heavy bank of cloud in the north-west" had put in an appearance.
Ha! there it was, black, ominous, gigantic, rolling up over the horizon like some monstrous football.

Around it the sky deepened into purple, fringed with a wide belt of brick red.

She had never seen such a beginning of a gale.