"None. But I have friends here. The captain has asked me to stay with his wife until I hear from home." "To whom shall you write?" "To my aunt in Leamington. She will come to Glasgow and take me home. And you?" "I?" I looked at her and smiled. "I! Why, your question puts a matter into my head that I must think over." "You are not strong enough to think. If you begin to think I shall grow angry." "But I must think, Mary." "Why?" "I must think how I am to get to London, and what I am to do when I get there." "When we were on the _Grosvenor_," she said, "you did all the thinking for me, didn't you? And now that we are on the _Peri_ I mean to do all the thinking for you. But I need not say that. I have thought my thoughts out. I have done with them." "Look here, Mary, I am going to be candid----" "Here comes one of the stewards to interrupt you." A very civil fellow came with a tray, which he placed on the skylight, and stood by to wait on us. I told him he need not stay, and, addressing Mary, I exclaimed-- "This recalls our farewell feast on the _Grosvenor_." "Yes; and there is the boatswain watching us, as if he would like to come to us again and congratulate us on having found each other out. Do catch his eye, dear, and wave your hand. He dare not come here." I waved my hand to him and he flourished his cap in return, and so did three or four men who were around him. "I am going----" I began. "You will eat your lunch first," she interrupted. "But why will you not listen?" "Because I have made my arrangements." "But I wish to speak of myself, dear." "I am speaking of you--my arrangements concern you--and me." I looked at her uneasily, for somehow the sense of my own poverty came home to me very sharply, and I had a strong disinclination to hear what my foolish pride might smart under as a mortification. She read my thoughts in my eyes; and blushing, yet letting me see her sweet face, she said in a low voice, "I thought we were to be married?" "I hope so. It is my dearest wish, Mary. I have told you I love you. It would break up my life to lose you now." "You shall not lose me--but neither will I lose you. I shall never release you more." "Mary, _do_ let me speak my thoughts out. I am very poor. The little that I had has gone down in the _Grosvenor_. I could not marry you as I am. I could not offer you the hand of a pauper. Let me tell you my plans. I shall write, on reaching Glasgow, to the owners of the _Grosvenor_, relate the loss of the ship, and ask for payment of the wages that are due to me. With this money I will travel to London and go to work at once to obtain a berth on another ship. Perhaps, when the owners of the _Grosvenor_ hear my story, they will give me a post on board one of their other vessels. At all events I must hope for the best. I will work very hard----"