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But he let her see that he did not enjoy the chance which had thrown them again in such close relations with Burnamy, and he did pot hide his belief that the Marches were somehow to blame for it. This made it impossible for her to write at once to Mrs. March as she had promised; but she was determined that it should not make her unjust to Burnamy.
"Have you been asleep?" she asked. "I've just blown out my light. What has kept you?" She did not reply categorically. Standing there in the sheltering dark, she said, "Papa, I wasn't very candid with you, this afternoon. I am engaged to Mr. Burnamy." "Light the candle," said her father. "Or no," he added before she could do so. "Is it quite settled?"
"We have a daughter living in Chicago," said Mrs. March, alluringly. But Miss Triscoe refused the bait, either because she had said all she meant, or because she had said all she would, about Chicago, which Mrs. March felt for the present to be one with Burnamy. She gave another of her leaps. "I don't see why people are so anxious to get it like Europe, at home.
"I believe," he said, rising, "I'll have a look at some of your papers," and he went into the reading-room. "Now," said Mrs. March, "he will go home and poison that poor girl's mind. And, you will have yourself to thank for prejudicing him against Burnamy."
"Oh, yes," Burnamy laughed, nervously: "I came near oversleeping, and getting off to sea without knowing it; and I rushed out to save myself, and so " He began to gather up his belongings while he followed the movements of Mr. Triscoe with a wistful eye.
It was more than an hour before Burnamy caught Lili's eye, and three times she promised to come and be paid before she came.
"I can answer it very well," she boasted, but she could find nothing better to say than, "It's your duty to her to see her and let her know." "Doesn't she know already?" "She has a right to know it from you. I think you are morbid, Mr. Burnamy. You know very well I didn't like your doing that to Mr. Stoller. I didn't say so at the time, because you seemed to feel it enough yourself.
"What coffee!" He drew a long sigh after the first draught. "It's said to be made of burnt figs," said Burnamy, from the inexhaustible advantage of his few days' priority in Carlsbad. "Then let's have burnt figs introduced at home as soon as possible. But why burnt figs? That seems one of those doubts which are much more difficult than faith."
Then the charm of the idle, eventless life grew upon them, and united them in a fond reluctance from the inevitable end. Now that the beginning of the end had come, the pangs of disintegration were felt in all the once-more-repellant particles. Burnamy and Miss Triscoe, as they hung upon the rail, owned to each other that they hated to have the voyage over.
The reticent father threw one of his staccato glances at the port, and Mrs. March was sure that she saw the daughter steal a look at Burnamy. The young fellow laughed. "I don't suppose there's anything to be done about it, unless we pass out a plate." Mr. Kenby shook his head. "It wouldn't do. We might send for the captain. Or the chief steward." The faces at the port vanished.
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