But it was in his own state-room that George Wentworth's jocularity came out at its best. He would grasp John Kenyon by the shoulder and shake that solemn man, over whose face a grim smile generally appeared when he noticed the exuberant jollity of his comrade. 'John,' Wentworth cried, 'why don't you laugh?' 'Well, it seems to me,' replied his comrade, 'that you are doing laughing enough for us both. It is necessary to have one member of the firm solid and substantial. I'm trying to keep the average about right. When you were in the dumps I had to be cheerful for two. Now that you feel so lively, I take a refuge in melancholy, to rest me after my hard efforts at cheerfulness.' 'Well, John, it seems to me too good to be true. What a plucky girl she was to do such a thing! How did she know but that the little vixen had a revolver with her, and might have shot her?' 'I suppose she didn't think about it at all.' 'Have you seen her since that dramatic incident?' 'Seen whom? Miss Brewster?' 'No, no; I mean Miss Longworth.' 'No, she hasn't appeared yet. I suppose she fears there will be a scene, and she is anxious to avoid it.' 'Very likely that is the case,' said Wentworth. 'Well, if you do see her, you can tell her there is no danger. Our genial friend, Fleming, has had a talk with that newspaper woman, so he tells me, and the way he describes it is exceedingly picturesque. He has threatened her with giving away the "snap," as he calls it, to the other New York papers, and it seems that the only thing on earth Miss Brewster is afraid of is the opposition press. So she has promised to say nothing more whatever about the incident.' 'Then, you have been talking with Fleming?' 'Certainly I have; a jovial good fellow he is, too. I have been doing something more than talking with him; I have been drinking with him.' 'And yet a day or two ago, I understand, you threatened to strike him.' 'A day or two ago, John! It was ages and ages ago. A day or two isn't in it. That was years and centuries since, as it appears to me. I was an old man then; now I have become young again, and all on account of the plucky action of that angel of a girl of yours.' 'Not of mine,' said Kenyon seriously; 'I wish she were.' 'Well, cheer up. Everything will come out right; you see, it always does. Nothing looked blacker than this matter about the telegram a few days ago, and see how beautifully it has turned out.' Kenyon said nothing. He did not desire to discuss the matter even with his best friend. The two went up on deck together, and took a few turns along the promenade, during which promenade the eyes of Kenyon were directed to the occupants of the deckchairs, but he did not see the person whom he sought. Telling Wentworth he was going below for a moment, he left him to continue his walk alone, and on reaching the saloon Kenyon spoke to a stewardess. 'Do you know if Miss Longworth is in her stateroom?' 'Yes, sir, I think she is,' was the answer.