"Poor simp," I murmured mechanically, not meaning anybody in particular.
But as I said it I lifted my absent and troubled eyes, and beheld my own
reflection in the mirror. It shocked me. Never had I believed myself
capable of a simper. And by heaven I wore one now--a moon-eyed
sentimental simper upon my virgin features.
"Confound it!" said I furiously, "why should I look like that? What's
the matter with my face?"
Very deep somewhere within me, in a still and serene obscurity so far
unagitated and un-plumbed, something stirred.
"I--I'm not in d-danger of f-falling in love," said I in a scared voice.
"Am I?"
Something was the matter with my heart. It had become irregular and
seemed frightened.
"If for one moment I supposed," said I, "that I were actually in the
slightest danger of--of----"
I looked at the Laughing Girl; looked away. And went to a chair and sat
down.
After a long interval I gave tongue to my inmost convictions. "It isn't
done," said I. "Fancy! Ha-ha!"
But my laughter was a failure.
I looked up at the Admiral to steady myself. I had never before
considered his features sardonic. He seemed to grin.
"W-what the devil's the matter with everything to-day!" I exclaimed,
getting up and beginning to pace the room.
But there was no use blustering. I suspected what the matter was. I
was falling in love with Thusis.
"Good Lord!" said I in unfeigned distress, "an adventuress camouflaged
as a servant! Has an O'Ryan come to this?"
Smith opened the door. He was in his shirt sleeves and had a pipe in
one hand, a book in the other.
"Whatthehellsthematter?" he asked. "You're thumping about in here like
an epileptic cat."