'I'm in luck,' said the unfortunate young man to himself. Then he
remarked aloud: 'We have not many ladies with us this voyage.'
'No,' replied Miss Brewster; 'I suppose nobody crosses at this time of
the year unless compelled to.'
'I can answer for two passengers that such is the case.'
'Do you mean yourself as one?'
'Yes, myself and my friend.'
'How pleasant it must be,' said Miss Brewster, 'to travel with a friend!
Then one is not lonely. I, unfortunately, am travelling alone.'
'I fancy,' said the gallant Wentworth, 'that if you are lonely while on
board ship, it will be entirely your own fault.'
Miss Brewster laughed a silvery little laugh.
'I don't know about that,' she said. 'I am going to that Mecca of all
Americans--Paris. My father is to meet me there, and we are then going on
to the Riviera together.'
'Ah, that will be very pleasant,' said Wentworth. 'The Riviera at this
season is certainly a place to be desired.'
'So I have heard,' she replied.
'Have you not been across before?'
'No, this is my first trip. I suppose you have crossed many times?'
'Oh no,' answered the Englishman; 'this is only my second voyage, my
first having been the one that took me to America.'
'Ah, then you are not an American,' returned Miss Brewster, with
apparent surprise.
She imagined that a man is generally flattered when a mistake of this
kind is made. No matter how proud he may be of his country, he is pleased
to learn that there is no provincialism about him which, as the Americans
say, 'gives him away.
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