In a moment more the lovers were united in a private room. Is it
necessary to say in what language the proceedings were opened? Surely
not! There is an inarticulate language of the lips in use on these
occasions in which we are all proficient, though we sometimes forget it
in later life. Natalie seated herself on a locker. The tea, sugar, and
spices were at her back, a side of bacon swung over her head, and a net
full of lemons dangled before her face. It might not be roomy, but it
was snug and comfortable.
"Suppose they call for the steward?" she suggested. ("Don't, Launce!")
"Never mind. We shall be safe enough if they do. The steward has only to
show himself on deck, and they will suspect nothing."
"Do be quiet, Launce! I have got dreadful news to tell you. And,
besides, my aunt will expect to see me with my braid sewn on again."
She had brought her needle and thread with her. Whipping up the skirt
of her dress on her knee, she bent forward over it, and set herself
industriously to the repair of the torn trimming.
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