Captain Jack was in a tremor. Hitherto he had acted the role of a
sane and sensible gentleman of middle age, master of himself and
of the situation. The entrance of K. D. B. had evidently reduced
him to a semi-idiotic condition. He enlarged himself; he eased
his neck in his collar with a rotary movement of head and
shoulders. He frowned terribly at trifling objects in corners of
the room. He cleared his throat till the glassware jingled. He
pulled at his mustache. He perspired, fumed, fretted, and was
suddenly seized with an insane desire to laugh. Once only he
caught the eye of K. D. B., calmly sitting in her corner, picking
daintily at her fish, whereupon he immediately overturned the
vinegar and pepper casters upon the floor. Just so might have
behaved an overgrown puppy in the presence of a sleepy,
unperturbed chessy-cat, dozing by the fire.
"He ought to be shaken," murmured Blix at the end of her patience.
"Does he think SHE is going to make the first move?"
"Ha, ah'm!" thundered the captain, clearing his throat for the
twentieth time, twirling his mustache, and burying his scarlet
face in an enormous pocket handkerchief.
Five minutes passed and he was still in his place. From time to
time K. D. B. fixed him with a quiet, deliberate look, and resumed
her delicate picking.
"Do you think she knows it's he, now that he's taken off his
marguerites?" whispered Condy.
"Know it?--of course she does! Do you think women are absolutely
BLIND, or so imbecile as men are? And, then, if she didn't think
it was he, she'd go away.
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