"She seems to me to be indifferent," said Lucy. "She
does not see how terrible it is. She was leaning over
the bulwark just now, laughing at the queer gossoons
selling their shillalahs."

"Oh, she will laugh at Death himself when he comes to
fetch her, and see something `queer'in him," said Clara.

But her little confidence with Lucy had relieved her.
The child cared nothing for George, that was plain.

Mademoiselle, watching Mrs. Waldeaux closely all day, was
not deceived by her laugh. "The old lady, your mother,"
she said to George, "is what you men call `game.' She
has blood and breeding. More than you, monsieur. That
keeps her up. I did not count on that," said the young
woman thoughtfully.

George took off his glasses and rubbed them nervously as
he talked. "I don't understand my mother at all! She
has always been very considerate and kind. I never
thought that she would receive my wife, when I brought
her to her, with calm civility. Not a kiss nor a
blessing!"

"A kiss? A blessing for me?" Lisa laughed and nodded
meaningly to the sea and world at large. "She could
hardly have blessed a woman lolling full length in her
chair," she thought. "It IS her chair. And I have
unseated her for life curling herself up in the rugs.