‘But—’ ‘Nothing at all for you to worry your head over,’ said the captain, moving to try and usher her forth. She fell asleep instantaneously, fatigued from weeks of exhaustion. But God did not put you next door. How she had hated it!… All these mumblings which were never explained, which carried no more sense to her brain than they would have carried to Old Morgan's swearing parrot. “I do not lay claim,” he continued, “to any remarkable amount of insight, but it is possible, is it not, that I have stumbled upon your present cause of distress. “Oh God!” she cried, “Oh God!” and flung aside her opera-cloak, and for a time walked about the room—a Corsair’s bride at a crisis of emotion. Answering him was agonizing. ‘We’ll cross that bridge if and when we come to it.
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