The girl must be mad! Didn't she know that a schooner was not a circus
ring? If she were such a fool Poleski should have taught her better
before bringing her on board.
They agreed that he had sense enough in other things, and had certainly
trained her not to be a nuisance.
After _dejeuner_ Emile had hunted up the least doubtful of the French
novels they possessed and sent her up on deck to get the benefit of the
sea air of which she was supposed to stand in need.
"_Va t'en_, Arithelli," he said. "You don't want to be suffocating
yourself down in a stuffy cabin. You're here to get lots of ozone and
make yourself look a little less like a corpse. Besides, we want to
talk."
She felt very much depressed and neglected as she sat dangling "_Les
confessions d'une femme mariee_," which were virtuous to dulness and
interested her not at all, in a listless hand, long and delicate like
her feet, and decorated with too many turquoise rings. Below, in the
cabin, she could hear the noise of the men as they argued and shouted
at each other in a polyglot of three different languages.
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