We had three rooms, all communicating, a sitting-room in the middle with bedrooms right and left.  The bedroom on the right was large and it contained a huge bed with a covered top and tail-boards.  That on the left was small, and it had a plain brass and iron bedstead, which had evidently been meant for a lady’s maid.  I had no maid yet.  It was intended that I should engage a French one in London.

Almost immediately on entering the sitting-room my husband, who had not yet recovered from his disappointment, left me to go downstairs, saying with something like a growl that he had telegrams to send to London and instructions to give to his man Hobson.

Without taking off my outer things I stepped up to the windows, which were encrusted with salt from the flying spray.  The hotel stood on a rocky ledge above the harbour, and the sound of the sea, beating on the outer side of the pier, came up with a deafening roar.  The red-funnelled steamer we should have sailed by lay on the pier’s sheltered side, letting down steam, swaying to her creaking hawsers, and heaving to the foam that was surging against her bow.

I was so nervous, so flurried, so preoccupied by vague fears that I hardly saw or heard anything.  Porters came up with our trunks and asked me where they were to place them, but I scarcely know how I answered them, although I was aware that everything—­both my husband’s luggage and mine—­was being taken into the large bedroom.  A maid asked if she ought to put a light to the fire, and I said “Yes . . . no . . . yes,” and presently I heard the fire crackling.

After awhile my husband came back in a better temper and said: 

“Confounded nuisance, but I suppose we must make the best of it.”

He laughed as he said this, and coming closer and looking me over with a smile which was at the same time passionate and proud, he whispered: 

“Dare say we’ll not find the time long until to-morrow morning.  What do you think, my little beauty?”

Something in his voice rather than in his question made my heart beat, and I could feel my face growing hot.

“Not taken off your things yet?” he said.  “Come, let me help you.”

I drew out my hat-pins and removed my hat.  At the same moment my husband removed my sables and cloak, and as he did so he put his arms about me, and held me close to him.

I shuddered.  I tried not to, but I could not help it.  My husband laughed again, and said: 

“Not got over it yet, little woman?  Perhaps that’s only because you are not quite used to me.”

Still laughing he pulled me still closer to him, and putting one of his hands under my chin he kissed me on the mouth.

It will be difficult and perhaps it will be ridiculous to say how my husband’s first kiss shocked me.  My mouth felt parched, I had a sense of intense disgust, and before I was quite aware of what I was doing I had put up both hands to push him off.