And indeed, when he followed the Purser in order to be introduced to this lady, he found her pretty well surrounded by assiduous gentlemen; and ’if you please—if you please,’ Mr. Collins had to keep repeating, before he could bring the new comer into the august presence. Mrs. de Lara—who, on closer inspection, turned out to be quite a young woman, with a pale, clear, olive complexion, softly-lustrous dark eyes that could say a good deal, a pretty smile and dimple, and magnificent hair—received him very graciously; and at once, and completely, and without the slightest compunction, proceeded to ignore the bystanders who had been so officiously kind to her. Of course their conversation was at first the usual nothings. Wonderful weather. Might be midsummer, but for the cold wind. Captain been on the bridge ever since Liverpool, poor man; get some rest after leaving Queenstown. Was she a good sailor?—Some ladies remained in their berths all the way over. Dry champagne, and plenty of it, the only safe-guard? Crossed many times? And so forth. But at length she said— "Couldn’t you find a chair, and bring it along?" Now the assiduous gentlemen had managed to find a very snug corner for Mrs. de Lara, where there was just room for two deck chairs—her own and that of her companion and friend, Miss Martinez; and Vincent, being rather shy, had no intention of jamming himself into this nook. He made some little excuse—and remained standing with the others: whereupon Mrs. de Lara said to her companion— "Isabel, will you go and see that the letters I left in my cabin are all properly stamped and put in the post-bag for Queenstown. Thank you, dear!" Then, the moment her faithful friend was gone, she said, with something of a French manner— "Here is a seat for you: come, tell me what the news of the ship is!" Vincent could not very well refuse; though the result of her open preference and selection was that her other obsequious admirers fell away one by one, under some pretence of playing rope-quoits or shovel-board: so that, eventually, he and she were left alone together, for Miss Martinez did not return. "Now," said the young grass-widow, whose very pretty chin was cushioned on abundant furs, "I am going to make you happy. But first of all I must tell you—you are in love." "Oh, really?" said Vincent. "Ah, yes, yes, yes," she said, with a charming insistence. "I have watched you. I know. You keep apart; you look far away; you speak to no one. And then I said to myself that I would make you happy. How? By asking you to tell me all about her." Whereupon Vincent said to himself, ’You’re a very impertinent woman—although you’ve got pretty eyes.’ And again he said, ’But after all you are a woman; and perhaps from you I may learn something more about Maisrie.’ So he said aloud— "The deck of a steamer is hardly the place for secrets."