Iron-souled as this woman
was, her fingers trembled as she wrote. She had a vision of Eustace and
the daughter of J. Rufus Bennett strolling together on moonlit decks,
leaning over rails damp with sea-spray, and, in short, generally
starting the whole trouble over again.
In the height of the tourist season it is not always possible for one
who wishes to leave America to spring on to the next boat. A long
morning's telephoning to the offices of the Cunard and the White Star
brought Mrs. Hignett the depressing information that it would be a full
week before she could sail for England. That meant that the inflammable
Eustace would have over two weeks to conduct an uninterrupted wooing,
and Mrs. Hignett's heart sank, till suddenly she remembered that so
poor a sailor as her son was not likely to have had leisure for any
strolling on the deck during the voyage of the _Atlantic_.
Having realised this, she became calmer and went about her preparations
for departure with an easier mind.
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