“Good-night,” I answered. . . . But I couldn’t take her advice about sleep, and in the dark I lay wide eyed, and half unhappy, which is, I suppose, silly to confess. . . . But I had never met a strange country before; in fact, I had never been anywhere much before, and the whole experience was almost overpowering. And it was only after quite an hour of wakefulness that my eyes grew heavy and I began to dream. When I woke up it was morning, a bright, sunny, warm morning, and there were voices outside which called in a way that was new to me; there were songs in the calls, even when they were angry. And the ship was still, so I knew that we must be in the harbor at Genoa. Because I was green--and still am and always will be!--I went down to the bathroom, and ran a tub full of water, and then decided not to bathe, for no one but a mud turtle could have bathed in that sort of water! It came right out of the harbor! And so I contented myself with the wash-bowl instead--the water from that was all right--and then went back to my stateroom; dressed, closed my steamer trunk and my bag, and hurried in to breakfast. I found Mrs. Hamilton finishing hers, and she pointed out Mr. Wake to me. He sat at the Captain’s table, and there was a beautiful woman devoting herself in the most unselfish way to talking to him, and he ate all the time she did it, and only nodded! I felt certain then that my day would be a silent one! However, that didn’t worry me. “_Marvelous_ man,” Mrs. Hamilton sort of breathed out in a way she does. “He certainly can eat oat meal,” I answered, because that was the only thing I noticed about him. Mrs. Hamilton laughed--she does a great deal--and turned to tell a young man with a funny little mustache what I had said, and he laughed. Then Mrs. Hamilton got up, and hurried off, and I finished my breakfast. As I left the dining saloon, I heard her hail me, and I found that she had actually come back to see that I met Mr. Wake. “Mr. Wake!” she called, as he came toward us, “here is my little charge--” Then she laughed, but he didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smile, he just bowed from the waistline in a manner that was very impressive, and yet chilling. “And it is Miss Jones, whom I am to look out for?” he asked, in a sort of bored way. “Jane,” I answered. “I should think you could call me Jane, because you are so _much_ older than I am--” And then he did laugh. “Bully,” he said, “I will! And look here, Jane, I say, you won’t talk Art to me, will you? Or quote my books?” “I didn’t know you wrote any until last night,” I answered, seriously, and again he laughed. I laughed too, but just to be sociable, because I didn’t see the joke. “We’ll have a fine day!” he said in the kindest and most enthusiastic manner, and I felt that we would too, but neither of us had any idea of how fine it would be, nor of all the many, many happy happenings it was to preface! CHAPTER TWO THE END OF ONE JOURNEY AND THE START OF ANOTHER