Rosalind spoke with a guileless sweetness of manner, and nothing could have been more innocent than the expression of her eyes; nevertheless Peggy suspected that a deliberate intention to annoy lurked behind the amicable manner, for it was evident that there was no more sympathy than of old between the brother and sister. She flushed indignantly, and was about to make a heated reply, when two tall figures appeared in the doorway, and waved an eager greeting. The older of the two was none other than Hector Darcy himself--(Tiresome creature! to put in an appearance at such an inopportune moment!)--and Arthur was his companion, looking well, what Arthur always _did_ look in his sister's eyes--the handsomest and most distinguished man in the room. Peggy had seen him earlier in the evening, but through all the embarrassment of meeting Hector with his sister's words still ringing in her ears, she was acutely conscious of every detail of his meeting with Rosalind; her little rustling movement of agitation, the flash in his eyes, above all, the eloquent silence with which hand met hand. Alas, poor Arthur! no need to wonder any longer if he cared, with that look on his face, that tell-tale light in his eye! After the first quick glance his sister averted her eyes, as from something sacred, and poured out a flood of rapid, inconsequent talk to the new-comer. Hector was unaffectedly delighted at the meeting, and became unusually lively, as he retailed items of information about different passengers on board the steamer, whom he had met since his return to England, while Peggy in her turn had her own little histories to add to the store. "You remember the old lady in the alpaca dress who called me a `restful influence'? It appears she is the head of the millinery department in one of the Calcutta shops, and was on her way to Paris to study fashions. We ran across her in a restaurant there, and she told us all about it, and offered to get my hats at wholesale prices. I thanked her kindly, but taking note of the fact that she was wearing a purple toque with trimmings of crimson and green, politely but firmly refused." "I should think so, indeed! Terrible old person! How you ever endured her as you did, I cannot understand. Remember young Chamberlain? Handsome fellow with big nose and square shoulders. I met him the other day in Piccadilly with a brand-new wife. Married the week he came back, after seven years' engagement. Introduced me to his wife with as much side as if no one had ever been married before!" "How sweet of him! He was a really nice man. He always went into the services on Sunday, and joined ira the hymns, instead of lolling about at the other end of the deck, like many of the men. He had some friends travelling second-class, too, and wasn't a bit ashamed of it, but used to go and see them regularly. I hope he will be very, very happy. Was she pretty?"