subtleties and delicacies of his companion, and looked the position
practically in the face for what it was worth, and no more. "Where's the
embarrassment?" he asked, pointing to the bedroom door. "There's your
room, all ready for you. And here's the sofa, in this room, all ready
for _me._ If you had seen the places I have slept in at sea--!"

She interrupted him, without ceremony. The places he had slept in, at
sea, were of no earthly importance. The one question to consider, was
the place he was to sleep in that night.

"If you must stay," she rejoined, "can't you get a room in some other
part of the house?"

But one last mistake in dealing with her, in her present nervous
condition, was left to make--and the innocent Arnold made it. "In some
other part of the house?" he repeated, jestingly. "The landlady would be
scandalized. Mr. Bishopriggs would never allow it!"

She rose, and stamped her foot impatiently on the floor. "Don't
joke!" she exclaimed. "This is no laughing matter." She paced the room
excitedly. "I don't like it! I don't like it!"

Arnold looked after her, with a stare of boyish wonder.

"What puts you out so?" he asked. "Is it the storm?"

She threw herself on the sofa again. "Yes," she said, shortly. "It's the
storm."

Arnold's inexhaustible good-nature was at once roused to activity again.