If she
can't take care of herself!" cried Mrs. Nettlepoint.
"Yes, let us keep thinking of her age, though it's not so prodigious. And
if things get very bad you've one resource left," I added.
She wondered. "To lock her up in her cabin?"
"No--to come out of yours."
"Ah never, never! If it takes that to save her she must be lost.
Besides, what good would it do? If I were to go above she could come
below."
"Yes, but you could keep Jasper with you."
"_Could_ I?" Mrs. Nettlepoint demanded in the manner of a woman who knew
her son.
In the saloon the next day, after dinner, over the red cloth of the
tables, beneath the swinging lamps and the racks of tumblers, decanters
and wine-glasses, we sat down to whist, Mrs. Peck, to oblige, taking a
hand in the game. She played very badly and talked too much, and when
the rubber was over assuaged her discomfiture (though not mine--we had
been partners) with a Welsh rabbit and a tumbler of something hot. We
had done with the cards, but while she waited for this refreshment she
sat with her elbows on the table shuffling a pack.
"She hasn't spoken to me yet--she won't do it," she remarked in a moment.
"Is it possible there's any one on the ship who hasn't spoken to you?"
"Not that girl--she knows too well!" Mrs.
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