“Yes,” said Claudius, “you may well do that.  There is a good deal of weather to talk about.”

“Oh, I like a storm at sea, of all things!” exclaimed Lady Victoria, forgetting all about Mr. Barker in the delicious sense of saltness and freedom one feels on the deck of a good ship running through a lively sea.  She put out her face to catch the fine salt spray on her cheek.  Just then a little water broke over the side abaft the gangway, and the vessel rose and fell to the sweep of a big wave.  The water ran along over the flush deck, as if hunting for the scuppers, and came swashing down to the lee where the party were standing, wetting the ladies’ feet to the ankle.  The men merely pulled themselves up by the ropes they held, and hung till the deck was clear again.

“I don’t suppose it hurts you to get wet,” said the Duke to his sister, “but you would be much better under hatches while this sort of thing is going on.”

“I think, if you will help me, I will go down and see how the Countess is,” said Miss Skeat; and Claudius detached her from the rigging and got her down the companion, but the Duke stayed with his sister, who begged for a few minutes more.  Once below, Claudius felt how near he was to Margaret, who was doubtless in the ladies’ cabin.  He could reach his own quarters without entering that sanctum, of course, but as he still held Miss Skeat’s arm to steady her to the door, he could not resist the temptation of putting his head through, for he knew now that she must be there.  It was a large sitting-room, extending through the whole beam, with big port-holes on each side.  Miss Skeat entered, and Claudius looked in.

There was Margaret, looking much as usual, her face turned a little from him as she lay in a huge arm-chair.  She could not see him as she was, and his heart beat furiously as he looked at the face he loved best of all others.

Margaret spoke to Miss Skeat without turning her head, for she was working at some of her eternal needlework.

“Have you had a good time?  How did you get down?”

“Such an airing,” answered the lady-companion, who was divesting herself of her wraps, “and Dr Claudius—­”

The last was lost to the Doctor’s ear, for he withdrew his head and beat a hasty retreat.  Miss Skeat also stopped speaking suddenly, for as she mentioned his name she looked naturally towards the door, supposing him to be standing there, and she just saw his head disappear from between the curtains.  Margaret turned her eyes and saw Miss Skeat’s astonishment.

“Well, what about Dr. Claudius?” she asked.

“Oh, nothing,” said Miss Skeat, “you asked me how I got down, and I was going to say Dr. Claudius gave me his arm, and I thought he had come in here with me.”