Such
hot weather was unusual for that part of Norway, and according to
Valdemar Svensen, betokened some change. On board the _Eulalie_
everything was ready for the trip to Soroe,--steam was getting up prior
to departure,--and a group of red-capped sailors stood prepared to weigh
the anchor as soon as the signal was given. Breakfast was
over,--Macfarlane was in the saloon writing his journal, which he kept
with great exactitude, and Duprez, who, on account of his wound, was
considered something of an invalid, was seated in a lounge chair on
deck, delightedly turning over a bundle of inflammatory French political
journals received that morning. Errington and Lorimer were pacing the
deck arm in arm, keeping a sharp look-out for the first glimpse of the
returning boat which had been sent off to fetch Thelma and her father.
Errington looked vexed and excited,--Lorimer bland and convincing.
"I can't help it, Phil!" he said. "It's no use fretting and fuming at
me. It was like Dyceworthy's impudence, of course,--but there's no doubt
he proposed to her,--and it's equally certain that she rejected him.
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