Seeing
there would be no unseemly dispute about places, she began to plan in her
own mind how she would first attract the attention of Mr. Wentworth.
While thinking how best to approach her victim, Jennie heard his voice.
'Here you are, Kenyon; here are our places.'
'Which is mine?' said the voice of Kenyon.
'It doesn't matter,' answered Wentworth, and then a thrill of fear went
through the gentle heart of Miss Jennie Brewster. She had not thought of
the young man not caring which seat he occupied, and she dreaded the
possibility of finding herself next to Kenyon rather than Wentworth. Her
first estimate of the characters of the two men seemed to be correct. She
always thought of Kenyon as Bunyan, and she felt certain that Wentworth
would be the easier man of the two to influence. The next moment her
fears were allayed, for Kenyon, giving a rapid glance at the handsome
young woman, deliberately chose the seat farthest from her, and
Wentworth, with 'I beg your pardon,' slipped in and sat down on the chair
beside her.
'Now,' thought Jennie, with a sigh of relief, 'our positions are fixed
for the meals of the voyage.' She had made her plans for beginning an
acquaintance with the young man, but they were rendered unnecessary by
the polite Mr. Wentworth handing her the bill of fare.
'Oh, thank you,' said the girl, in a low voice, which was so musical that
Wentworth glanced at her a second time and saw how sweet and pretty and
innocent she was.
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