It was then that she began to cry over her hard fate. When she woke up
the tears were still rolling down her cheeks and she perceived in the
light of the deck-lamp d'Alcacer arrested a little way off.
"Did you have to speak to me?" she asked.
"No," said d'Alcacer. "You didn't give me time. When I came as far as
this I fancied I heard you sobbing. It must have been a delusion."
"Oh, no. My face is wet yet. It was a dream. I suppose it is five
o'clock. Thank you for being so punctual. I have something to do before
sunrise."
D'Alcacer moved nearer. "I know. You have decided to keep an appointment
on the sandbank. Your husband didn't utter twenty words in all these
hours but he managed to tell me that piece of news."
"I shouldn't have thought," she murmured, vaguely.
"He wanted me to understand that it had no importance," stated d'Alcacer
in a very serious tone.
"Yes. He knows what he is talking about," said Mrs. Travers in such
a bitter tone as to disconcert d'Alcacer for a moment. "I don't see a
single soul about the decks," Mrs. Travers continued, almost directly.
"The very watchmen are asleep," said d'Alcacer.
"There is nothing secret in this expedition, but I prefer not to call
any one. Perhaps you wouldn't mind pulling me off yourself in our small
boat.
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