Sunday nothing can be done. Monday morning, before your report will
reach the directors, the substance of what has appeared in the _Argus_
will be in the financial papers, cabled over to London on Sunday night.
The first thing your directors will see of it will be in the London
financial papers on Monday morning. That's what I mean, Mr. Wentworth, by
calculating the voyage.'
Wentworth said no more. He staggered to his feet and made his way as best
he could to the state-room, groping like a blind man. There he sat down
with his head in his hands, and there his friend Kenyon found him.
CHAPTER IX.
'Tell me what has happened,' demanded John Kenyon.
Wentworth looked up at him.
'Everything has happened,' he answered.
'What do you mean, George? Are you ill? What is the matter with you?'
'I am worse than ill, John--a great deal worse than ill. I wish I
were ill.'
'That wouldn't help things, whatever is wrong. Come, wake up. Tell me
what the trouble is.'
'John, I am a fool--an ass--a gibbering idiot.'
'Admitting that, what then?'
'I trusted a woman--imbecile that I am; and now--now--I'm what you see
me.'
'Has--has Miss Brewster anything to do with it?' asked Kenyon
suspiciously.
'She has everything to do with it.'
'Has she--rejected you, George?'
'What! _that_ girl? Oh, you're the idiot now. Do you think I would
ask _her_?'
'I cannot be blamed for jumping at conclusions. You must remember "that
girl," as you call her, has had most of your company during this voyage;
and most of your good words when you were not with her.
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