I imagine she was not much disconcerted by this development.

"I live a long way from here," she whispered.
I said perfunctorily, "Do you ?" And we remained gazing at each other.
The uniform paleness of her complexion was not that of an anaemic girl.
It had a transparent vitality and at that particular moment the faintest possible rosy tinge, the merest suspicion of colour; an equivalent, I suppose, in any other girl to blushing like a peony while she told me that Captain Anthony had arranged to show her the ship that morning.
It was easy to understand that she did not want to meet Fyne.

And when I mentioned in a discreet murmur that he had come because of her letter she glanced at the hotel door quickly, and moved off a few steps to a position where she could watch the entrance without being seen.

I followed her.

At the junction of the two thoroughfares she stopped in the thin traffic of the broad pavement and turned to me with an air of challenge.