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Miss Mavis turned out, in sea-phrase, early; for the next morning I saw her come up only a short time after I had finished my breakfast, a ceremony over which I contrived not to dawdle. She was alone and Jasper Nettlepoint, by a rare accident, was not on deck to help her.
She is not a person he could ever think of seriously. 'That's exactly what I believe. 'You don't observe you imagine, Mrs. Nettlepoint pursued. How do you reconcile her laying a trap for Jasper with her going out to Liverpool on an errand of love? 'I don't for an instant suppose she laid a trap; I believe she acted on the impulse of the moment.
At sea in general I'm awful I exceed the limits. If I've outraged her in thought I'll jump overboard. There are ways of asking a man doesn't need to tell a woman that without the crude words." "I don't know what you imagine between them," said Mrs. Nettlepoint. "Well, nothing," I allowed, "but what was visible on the surface. It transpired, as the newspapers say, that they were old friends."
Allen had said; and she had represented that nothing was simpler than to give her the girl in charge. When Mrs. Mavis had replied that this was all very well but that she didn't know the lady, Mrs. Allen had declared that that didn't make a speck of difference, for Mrs. Nettlepoint was kind enough for anything. It was easy enough to know her, if that was all the trouble! All Mrs. Mrs.
She hadn't encouraged me, when I spoke to her as we were leaving Boston, to go on with the history of my acquaintance with this gentleman; and yet now, unexpectedly, she appeared to imply it was doubtless one of the disparities mentioned by Mrs. Nettlepoint that he might be glanced at without indelicacy. "I see you mean by letters," I remarked. "We won't live in a good part.
'Keep her with you as much as possible. 'I don't follow you much, Mrs. Nettlepoint replied, 'but so far as I do I don't think your remarks are in very good taste. 'I'm too excited, I lose my head, cold-blooded as you think me. Doesn't she like Mr. Porterfield? 'Yes, that's the worst of it. 'The worst of it? 'He's so good there's no fault to be found with him.
'How can I tell, when she never quits that horrid veil? It's as if she were ashamed to show her face. 'She's keeping it for Liverpool. But I don't like such incidents, said Mrs. Nettlepoint. 'I shall go upstairs. 'And is that where you want me to help you? 'Oh, your arm and that sort of thing, yes. But something more. I feel as if something were going to happen.
I at any rate dozed to excess, stretched on my rug with a French novel, and when I opened my eyes I generally saw Jasper Nettlepoint pass with the young woman confided to his mother's care on his arm. Somehow at these moments, between sleeping and waking, I inconsequently felt that my French novel had set them in motion.
After a while I heard the sound of voices, of steps, the rustle of dresses, and I looked round, supposing these things to be the sign of the return of Mrs. Nettlepoint and her handmaiden, bearing the refreshment prepared for her son. What I saw however was two other female forms, visitors just admitted apparently, who were ushered into the room.
Nettlepoint notified her new friends that she was a very inactive person at sea: she was prepared to suffer to the full with Miss Mavis, but she was not prepared to walk with her, to struggle with her, to accompany her to the table. To this the girl replied that she would trouble her little, she was sure: she had a belief that she should prove a wretched sailor and spend the voyage on her back.
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