The reverberation of that mighty voice rolled and shook through the cabin. It even affected the mate, for the visitor, glancing towards him, saw that he had nervously concealed himself beneath the bedclothes, and was shaking with fright. “I daresay his bark is worse than his bite,” said the visitor, trembling; “anyway, I’m going to stay here. I saw Mr. Robinson come here, and I believe he’s got him in there. Killing him, perhaps. Oh! Oh!” To the mate’s consternation she began to laugh, and then changed to a piercing scream, and, unused to the sex as he was, he realised that this was the much-dreaded hysteria of which he had often heard, and faced her with a face as pallid as her own. “Chuck some water over yourself,” he said, hastily, nodding at a jug which stood on the table. “I can’t very well get up to do it myself.” The lady ignored this advice, and by dint of much strength of mind regained her self-control. She sat down on the locker again, and folding her arms showed clearly her intention to remain. Half an hour passed; the visitor still sat grimly upright. Twice she sniffed slightly, and, with a delicate handkerchief, pushed up her veil and wiped away the faint beginnings of a tear. “I suppose you think I’m acting strangely?” she said, catching the mate’s eye after one of these episodes. “Oh, don’t mind me,” said the mate, with studied politeness; “don’t mind hurting my feelings or taking _my_ character away.” “Pooh! you’re a man,” said the visitor, scornfully; “but character or no character, I’m going to see into that room before I go away, if I sit here for three weeks.” “How’re you going to manage about eating and drinking all that time?” enquired Fraser. “How are you?” said the visitor; “you can’t get up while I’m here, you know.” “Well, we’ll see,” said the mate, vaguely. “I’m sure I don’t want to annoy anybody,” said the visitor, softly, “but I’ve had a lot of trouble, young man, and what’s worse, I’ve been made a fool of. This day three weeks ago I ought to have been married.” “I’m sure you ought,” murmured the other. The lady ignored the interruption. “Travelling under Government on secret service, he said he was,” she continued; “always away: here to-day, China to-morrow, and America the day after.” “Flying?” queried the interested mate. “I daresay,” snapped the visitor; “anything to tell me, I suppose. We were to be married by special license. I’d even got my _trousseau_ ready.” “Got your _what_ ready?” enquired the mate, to whom the word was new, leaning out of his bunk. “Everything to wear,” explained the visitor. “All my relations bought new clothes, too; leastways, those that could afford it did. He even went and helped me choose the cake.” “Well, is that wrong?” asked the puzzled mate. “He didn’t buy it, he only chose it,” said the other, having recourse to her handkerchief again. “He went outside the shop to see whether there was one he would like better, and when I came out he had disappeared.”