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"
Errington smiled gravely. "Perhaps you are right, sir," he said; "but
perhaps, at the same time, you forget that life has grown very bitter to
all of us during the last hundred years or so. Maybe the world is
getting old and used up, maybe the fault is in ourselves,--but it is
certain that none of us nowadays are particularly happy, except at rare
intervals when--"
At that moment, in a lull of the storm, Thelma's voice pealed upwards
from the saloon. She was singing a French song, and the refrain rang out
clearly--
"Ah! le doux son d'un baiser tendre!"
Errington paused abruptly in his speech, and turning towards a little
closed and covered place on deck which was half cabin, half
smoking-room, and which he kept as his own private sanctum, he unlocked
it, saying--
"Will you come in here, sir? It's not very spacious, but I think it's
just the place for a chat,--especially a private one."
Gueldmar entered, but did not sit down,--Errington shut the door against
the rain and beating spray and also remained standing.


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