"Three, please," St. George directed, for the pure joy of watching
her hands. There were no tongs.
"Aren't the rest going to have some?" Olivia absently shared her
attention, tinkling delicately about among the tea things. "Doesn't
every one want a cup of tea?" she inquired loud enough for nobody to
hear. St. George, shifting his shoulder from the rail, looked
vaguely over the deck of _The Aloha_, sighed contentedly, and smiled
back at her. No one else, it appeared, would have tea; and there was
none to regret it.
St. George's cursory inspection had revealed the others variously
absorbed, though they were now all agreed in breathing easily since
Barnay, interlarding rational speech with Irishisms of thanksgiving,
had announced five minutes before that the fires were up and that in
half an hour _The Aloha_ might weigh anchor. The only thing now left
to desire was to slip clear of the shadow of the black reaches of
Yaque, shouldering the blue.
Meanwhile, Antoinette and Amory sat in the comparative seclusion of
the bow with their backs to the forward deck, and it was definitely
manifest to every one how it would be with them, but every one was
simply glad and dismissed the matter with that.
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