her companion was away. Mr. Neuburg talked cleverly and also incessantly, but he wasn’t young and he wasn’t that rather attractive Mr. Seadon. Without realizing anything of its meaning, she felt that Mr. Seadon was, as he had laughingly suggested, being barred out by a crowd. She began to show irritation—and independence. Mr. Neuburg found she was leaving him in the middle of conversations. Méduse Smythe could produce nothing important enough to hold her mistress at her side. The twain were not fools. They recognized they were beaten. They ceased their attentions with a brilliant [Pg 53]naturalness, but Clement knew that the eyes of Mr. Neuburg watched him always as he walked with Heloise. [Pg 53] Clement knew that the intelligence that was busy considering him was not one to be despised. He did not know the extent of the gang working to ensnare Heloise, but he felt that Neuburg was probably the brains of it, the master mind, and that he would act in a masterly manner, leaving very little to chance. To checkmate such a fellow would call for all his ability—and perhaps all his strength and courage. All the same, though he was constantly on the alert, Clement made the most of his opportunities with Heloise. It was for the good of Heloise—and it was extraordinarily attractive for himself. He wasn’t going to marry her. That was absurd.... How could he? Only—only she was decisively and radiantly pretty. The singular glowing curd-whiteness of her skin, the vividness of her beautiful and delicate lips against the coolness of that skin, the clearness and steadiness of her eyes—all these things gave him an eversharpening sense of delight whenever he set eyes on her. And her step suited his so perfectly. On board ship, one is immensely appreciative of any one whose step suits one perfectly. Her tall figure swung so gracefully, so untiringly, beside him as they walked, no matter if the sea was as smooth as polished glass—which the Atlantic rarely is—or [Pg 54]whether there was a “lop” on. She was as physically fit and as hard as he was, and she took the same zest in out-of-door things. He felt a sort of comradeship, a rightness in the fact that they should stride up and down the promenade deck together in such a perfect unison as almost to suggest they were one.... [Pg 54] As though they were one!... but, of course, that was idiotic. They weren’t one. There was no suggestion of their being one. One—that meant marriage. And that
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