She was, she suddenly realised, but repeating his own phrase. Why should she not? The phrase was commonplace enough; besides, the phosphorus _was_ beautiful. Then she became conscious of his arm about her, became conscious that this arm about her had not been unpleasant; was indignant with him, silently, and indignant with herself; made certain, in her own mind, that he had put his arm around her waist only that he might protect her--and thus soon left him and went to bed without waking Jim. She opened her eyes after an unquiet night, to find that Stainton was somewhat improved, though too mindful of his experience of the preceding day to trust himself on deck. "I'll wait," he decided, "till to-morrow or this evening. Yes, I think I shall manage it this evening. I'm really in good shape, but I must have eaten something that didn't agree with me. You go up, Muriel. If you see that Austrian fellow, don't forget to give him my compliments and tell him I'll probably have the pleasure of meeting him this evening. What did you say he was?" "His name," said Muriel, "is von Klausen." She hated herself for her unreasonable disinclination to mention the Captain. "H'm--a diplomat, did you say?" "Something of the sort." "As old as most diplomats then, I suppose?" "No," said Muriel; "he's--he's rather young." The ship began to descend a lofty wave, and Stainton lay back in his berth. His face, with its full day's growth of beard, looked grey. "All right," he said. "Run along, dear--and look in about noon." Muriel obeyed him. Their chairs were well forward, and when she reached them she saw von Klausen again seated in that which bore Stainton's card. He rose at sight of her. No motion of the boat seemed ever to affect him to awkwardness. "Your husband," he asked, bareheaded and erect while she seated herself; "he is, I trust, better?" "He hasn't really been sick," she asseverated with what she knew, as she said it, to be wholly unnecessary emphasis. The young Austrian performed one of his ceremonious obeisances. "Then I shall be so pleased, so honoured, this evening to be presented to him, and I so deeply regret his having been ill. It is not good, this ocean, for the elderly." Muriel's cheeks warmed. "Why do you call him that?" she demanded. "I told you yesterday that he was--that he was almost young. Why do you call him elderly?" "Forgive." Von Klausen's wide gesture expressed his regret for this error. "I had forgotten entirely. It is too bad of me to forget entirely." "Oh," laughed Muriel, for she was already condemning her annoyance as childishness, "it doesn't matter, because it is so absurd. Only, what gave you such an impression?" "Please?" "The impression that he was elderly: what gave you that?" Von Klausen manifestly hesitated.