"Walking about here looking for you! I couldn't imagine where you were," I say. The others come up and we turn our faces towards the harbour. The dusky oarsmen are waiting for us, and we are soon skimming over the dark water--I with my hoard of flowers in my lap and my eyes fixed on the great dim hulk of the _San Miguel_ anchored out in the bay. CHAPTER III [Illustration: Chapter Three] I AM LECTURED "Blanche," says Mrs. Steele the next morning as she brushes out the lovely waves of prematurely grey hair, "what are you going to do about t h e Baron?" "Do?" I repeat innocently. "What's the matter with him?" "Now, Blanche, you said if I would promise not to interfere you would be frank. I'm not sure I am wise to adhere to my side of the bargain under any circumstances. I never thought you the kind of a girl to go on letting a man fall more and more in love knowing all the while you would never be able to give him more than a passing interest." "How do you know that? Perhaps I'm disguising all sorts of fierce and fiery feelings under my cool exterior?" "No, my dear, you can't impose on an old friend so far as that. You are a queer girl and not always easy to understand, but you care less for the Baron de Bach than I do, and you know it. Now, what makes you act so?" and she arraigns me with uplifted brush. "Dear Mrs. Steele, I'm a student of human nature in a small way. If I know anything about our Peruvian friend he will fall out of 'love,' as you are pleased to call his chronic state of sentiment, as readily as he fell in, and no bones broke, either. He would have forgotten all about me before this and gone over to pretty Miss Rogers and the study of photography except that I've been a bit obdurate--unusually so, he is naive enough to assure me, and his vanity is piqued." Mrs. Steele lays down her brush and begins to coil up the long, soft hair. "My dear, you are very old for your years. When I was twenty I would have made a hero out of that man instead of calmly picking out his foibles--girls are not what they used to be." I retire to my stateroom after breakfast to read. The Baron retaliates by becoming aware of pretty Miss Rogers' existence. Pretty Miss Rogers' mamma is conspicuously polite to him, and pretty Miss Rogers' self offers to play the piano to his violin. It is Mrs. Steele who brings me these tidings and assures me that Miss Rogers plays well, and, as for the Baron de Bach, he is a master! I resolutely read my book till luncheon time and, going up on deck afterwards, I am surprised that the ever-watchful Baron has not hurried to meet me. He seems utterly indifferent to the fact of my presence and leans beside Miss Rogers at the ship's rail talking contentedly.