“And what about my job, Florence?” he said, changing the conversation.  “I’ve caught the yachting idea, too.  Can it be managed?”

“Oh, I want to talk to you about that,” she said.

“Well, go on,” he said, as she hesitated.

“I am so afraid of hurting your feelings, Frank,” she said with a singular timidity.

“My feelings are probably tougher than you think,” he returned.

“You will think so badly of me,” she said.  “You will be affronted.”

“It sounds as though you wanted to engage me for your butler,” he said.  Then, as she still withheld the words on her lips, he went on:  “Don’t be uneasy about saying it, Florence.  If it’s impossible—­why, that’s the end of it, of course, and no harm done.”

“I want you to come,” she said simply.

“Then, what’s the trouble?” he demanded, getting more and more mystified.  “I don’t mind being an artificer the least bit.  I like to work with my hands.  I’m a good mechanic, and I like it.”

“I want you for my chief engineer,” she said.

This was news, indeed.  Frank’s face betrayed his keen pleasure.  He had never soared to the heights of asking or expecting that.

“I had to dismiss the last one,” she went on.  “That’s the reason why I’m still here, and not two days out, as I had expected.  He locked himself in his cabin and shot at people through the door, and told awful lies to the newspapers.”

“If it’s anything about my qualifications,” he said, thinking he had found the reason of her backwardness, “I don’t fancy I’ll have any trouble to satisfy you.  I don’t want to toot my own horn, Florence, but really, you know, I am rated a first-class man.  I’ll prove that by my certificates and all that, or give me two weeks’ trial, and see for yourself.”

“Oh, it isn’t that,” she said.

“Then, what is it?” he broke out.  “Only the other day they offered me a Western Ocean liner, and, if you like, I’ll send you the letter.  If I am good enough for a big passenger ship, I guess I can run the Minnehaha to please you!”

“Frank,” she returned, “it is not a question of your competency at all.  You know very well I’d trust my life to you, blindfold.  It’s —­it’s the social side, the old affair between us, the first names and all that kind of thing.”

“Oh, I see!” he said blankly.

“As an officer on my ship,” she said, “you could easily put yourself and me in a difficult position.  In a way, we’ll really be further apart than if you were in South America and I in Monte Carlo, for, though we’d always be good friends, and all that, the formalities would have to be observed.  Now, I have offended you?” she added, putting out her hand appealingly.

“I think you might have known me better, Florence,” he returned.  “I am not offended—­what right have I to be offended—­only a little hurt, perhaps, to think that you could doubt me for a single moment in such a matter.  I understand very well, and appreciate the need for it.  Did you expect me to call you Florence on the quarterdeck of your own vessel, and presume on our old friendship to embarrass you and set people talking?  Good Heavens, what do you take me for?”