“C. Q.” or, In the Wireless House
table, neither she nor her brother had by so much as a single word indicated whence they had come, what their purpose in life was, or where they were going. Micky had a vague suspicion that the girl showed an unusual dexterity in avoiding anything like an approach to personalities—but he confessed that he might have been mistaken. Lastly, with all the readiness of the two to make themselves agreeable in the saloon, they never talked to any one outside on deck, or joined in any of the games that were played. In fact, the brother had remained almost constantly in his state-room, while the girl sat by herself, reading or watching the gulls. He had a sensitive, rather cadaverous face, and, like the man Cloud, sported a half-grown, bristly beard. They were English, of course, but they piqued Micky’s curiosity, and he determined to break down the barrier of reserve with which they had surrounded themselves.
On the second-cabin list they were put down as “Mr. William H. Bennett, Miss Bennett,” and as such he now addressed her.
“Find it rather dull on board, Miss Bennett?”
31
