was mine, _any_ way."

She made no answer to this, as if too much overcome by the true state of
the case to be troubled by its perversion. Mr. Arbuton, following them
on board, felt himself in the unpleasant character of persecutor, some
one to be shunned and escaped by every maneuver possible to
self-respect. He was to be the means, it appeared, of spoiling the
enjoyment of the voyage for one who, he inferred, had not often the
opportunity of such enjoyment. He had a willingness that she should
think well and not ill of him; and then at the bottom of all was a
sentiment of superiority, which, if he had given it shape, would have
been _noblesse oblige_. Some action was due to himself as a gentleman.

The young lady went to seek the matron of the party, and left her
companion at the door of the saloon, wistfully fingering a cigar in one
hand, and feeling for a match with the other. Presently he gave himself
a clap on the waistcoat which he had found empty, and was turning away,
when Mr. Arbuton said, offering his own lighted cigar, "May I be of use
to you?"

The other took it with a hearty, "O yes, thank you!" and, with many
inarticulate murmurs of satisfaction, lighted his cigar, and returned
Mr. Arbuton's with a brisk, half-military bow.

Mr. Arbuton looked at him narrowly a moment. "I'm afraid," he said
abruptly, "that I've most unluckily been the cause of annoyance to one
of the ladies of your party. It isn't a thing to apologize for, and I
hardly know how to say that I hope, if she's not already forgotten the
matter, she'll do so." Saying this, Mr. Arbuton, by an impulse which he
would have been at a loss to explain, offered his card.