"Oh, don't be silly," said the girl calmly. "What does it matter whether
I do or not?"

"It matters a great deal," said the mate gloomily. "It's life or death
to me."

"Oh, nonsense," said Hetty. "She won't know of your foolishness. I won't
tell her."

"I tell you," said the mate desperately, "there never was a Kitty Loney.
What do you think of that?"

"I think you are very mean," said the girl scornfully; "don't talk to me
any more, please."

"Just as you like," said the mate, beginning to lose his temper.

He pushed his plate from him and departed, while the girl, angry and
resentful, put the potatoes back as being too floury for consumption in
the circumstances.

For the remainder of the passage she treated him with a politeness and
good humour through which he strove in vain to break. To her surprise
her father made no objection, at the end of the voyage, when she
coaxingly suggested going back by train; and the mate, as they sat at
dummy-whist on the evening before her departure, tried in vain to
discuss the journey in an unconcerned fashion.

"It'll be a long journey," said Hetty, who still liked him well enough