I feel sure that if
she said she would do a thing, she _would_ do it.'
'I have no such faith,' answered Kenyon. 'I think, on the contrary, that
she is quite capable of asking you for the money and still sending her
telegram.'
'Well, I doubt if she would do so. I think the girl really believes she
is acting rightly, and imagines she has done a creditable action in a
very smart way. If she were not what she calls "honest," she would not
have shown so much temper as she did. Not but that I gave a deplorable
exhibition of temper myself, for which there was really no excuse.'
'I am sure,' said Kenyon warmly, 'you did nothing of the kind. At all
events, I am certain everything you did was perfectly right; and I know
you were completely justified in anything you said.'
'I wish I could think so.'
'I want to ask you one question,' said Kenyon.
But what that question was will never be known. It was never asked; and
when Edith Longworth inquired about it some time later, the question had
entirely gone from Kenyon's mind. The steamship, which was ploughing
along through the waters, suddenly gave a shiver, as if it were shaken by
an earthquake; there were three tremendous bumps, such as a sledge might
make by going suddenly over logs concealed in the snow. Both Kenyon and
Miss Longworth sprang to their feet. There was a low roar of steam, and
they saw a cloud rise amidships, apparently pouring out of every aperture
through which it could escape.
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