Will
you?"
She did not answer. "It must be rather late, isn't it?" she asked. He let
her see his watch, and she said, "Yes, it's very late," and led the way
within. "I must look after my packing; papa's always so prompt, and I
must justify myself for making him let me give up my maid when we left
home; we expect to get one in Dresden. Good-night!"
Burnamy looked after her drifting down their corridor, and wondered
whether it would have been a fit return for her expression of a sense of
novelty in him as a literary man if he had told her that she was the
first young lady he had known who had a maid. The fact awed him; Miss
Triscoe herself did not awe him so much.
XVIII.
The next morning was merely a transitional period, full of turmoil and
disorder, between the broken life of the sea and the untried life of the
shore. No one attempted to resume the routine of the voyage. People went
and came between their rooms and the saloons and the decks, and were no
longer careful to take their own steamer chairs when they sat down for a
moment.
In the cabins the berths were not made up, and those who remained below
had to sit on their hard edges, or on the sofas, which were cumbered
with, hand-bags and rolls of shawls.
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