By Juliet Armstrong
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Extra info for ISLE OF THE HUMMING BIRD
Example text
Maybe not. ' He looked at her sharply. 'She didn't strike me that way. Anyway, she's perfectly normal now, so far as I can judge. But what a bore it is, talking about her, when we could be talking about each other. ' Glad to have his reasonable explanation, she was ready enough to fall in with his suggestion. It was crowded in the saloon--it would be pleasant to be in the fresh air. And that evening, under the spangled sky, the dark rushing water far below, the barriers of reserve between them were gradually broken down.
She did not answer him directly then. A thought had struck her, and she asked with a faint frown: 'But how did you find out where he had placed me? ' A gleam of mischief lit up his dark eyes, but the next moment he was explaining half apologetically: 'I noticed you on the boat-train as I walked down the platform. You were getting into a non-smoking compartment. And then--well, I happened to be behind you and your porter as you came on board. ' she enquired drily. 'Actually he isn't. ' He sounded a little offended.
And he went on to describe the attractions of the Spanish and Portuguese ports they would be visiting--the startling beauty of Madeira, whether one came to it by day as a hill smothered in flowers, or by night, decked at every level with jewelled lights. She listened with what surely must have been flattering absorption, but before very long he was on personalities again. 'Please don't think me horribly impertinent, Miss Moore. But I see from the list outside the dining- saloon that you've been put to sit with an Archdeacon and his wife and, I presume, sister.
