‘Yes, my dear Mrs. Arbuthnot, go,’ cried old Cassandra, glancing up, over her double spectacles, from her pinning. ‘It will take me an hour’s work to bring all my specimens straight. And your colour shows you want oxygen. You are right, Lord Rex. Take Mrs. Arbuthnot on deck to see this comet which is not a comet. I shall follow by and by.’ And Dinah Arbuthnot obeyed. She did more. Dinah allowed the tips of her cold fingers to rest within Rex Basire’s hand as he pioneered her up the cabin stairs into the semi-darkness of the night. CHAPTER XXXI WIFE AND HUSBAND The outlook continued promising overhead. The tide was at the right ebb for making Barfleur Point. At an earlier hour than had been hoped for, the friendly Casket lights showed, at intervals, above the starboard bow of the _Princess_. The skipper, cheerful of voice, promised his passengers that in forty minutes more--tide and weather remaining favourable--the vessel would be lying well to leeward of Alderney. All this time Dinah had found no opportunity for exchanging a conciliatory word with her husband. She felt that Gaston did not so much avoid as ignore her. He always contrived to be deep in talk with some other person when his wife sought to draw near him. He did not address her, did not recognise her presence. At length, abruptly, just as Dinah was nerving herself to make some desperate first advance, Mr. Arbuthnot crossed the deck. He came up to the spot where she and Rex Basire stood together. With the pleasantest air imaginable he put his hand under Dinah’s arm. ‘Suppose you take a turn with me, wife?’ Mr. Arbuthnot made the proposal in his lightest tone, Rex Basire listening. ‘Do you see that revolving beacon? No, my dear, no! Neither aloft on the funnel, nor in my face, but away, far as you can look, to the right. That beacon marks the Casket Rocks. And there, straight ahead, but without any lights showing, as yet, we are to believe is Alderney. Let us make our way to the forecastle. We shall have a better view.’ The fore part of the deck was deserted, save by two or three knots of sailors, talking low together in patois French as they watched the horizon. Gaston and Dinah were practically alone. She felt the heart within her throb uneasily. An icy politeness lay beneath the surface geniality of Gaston Arbuthnot’s manner. Dinah was prompt to recognise it. ‘What a long day this has been, Gaston. I shall want no wider experience in respect of yachting picnics.’ ‘You are changeable, Dinah. As we walked from Langrune to Luc, it was agreed between us that the day should be considered a success.’ ‘A great deal has happened since then,’ exclaimed Dinah, under her breath. ‘Nothing very notable, surely. If I recollect right, I did my duty to the extent of two waltzes in the Luc ball-room, and you, my dear child, had a long, a most amusing and intellectual conversation, I cannot doubt, with Lord Rex Basire, in one of the doorways.’